


Another World

by leelee202



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 184,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leelee202/pseuds/leelee202
Summary: Charlotte Wright lives in the modern world when a stranger mysteriously appears on her back lawn. This is an AU story, set in the modern world. Rated M just in case.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I really shouldn't be writing another story, considering that I currently have two other works that I need to finish. But this story was nagging at me for a few weeks now, begging to be written, and would not leave me be until I did so.
> 
> This is completely AU. I repeat - completely AU. For those that are offended by it, simply don't read it.
> 
> And for those of you that don't mind reading something AU, I hope you enjoy this story.

Charlotte Wright sat at her kitchen table, nursing a hot cup of tea between her hands in an attempt to stave off the cold. Winter had begun her cold descent and the house was draughty on the best of days.

Charlotte gazed aimlessly around the kitchen, her eyes skimming over the sink piled with dishes – she promised herself that she would tackle them, just as soon as she found the time. Of late, there was neither time, nor inclination.

Her eyes landed on the stack of envelopes scattered on the counter near the back door, all addressed to either her mother or father. Letters that would never be opened or read by the person they were addressed to.

Charlotte sighed heavily and drained the last dregs of her tea. It had been a year since her parents had passed, and each day was still a continuous struggle. Charlotte was now alone. Utterly and completely alone. She was an only child and, by default, had inherited the house. Charlotte would gladly trade it all to have her parents back. 

The continuous echo of silence permeating within the walls was hallow and soul sucking, a constant reminder of what she had lost.

Charlotte stood abruptly and placed her mug in the growing pile in the sink – she would tackle them after her walk. Maybe.

Slipping on her insulated rubber boots, Charlotte grabbed her winter jacket off the coat rack, along with her wool hat and gloves. Now appropriately dressed, Charlotte grabbed her keys and stepped outside.

Snow dusted the plains of the countryside in a thin layer of downy white. There was not enough of the stuff covering the ground yet to give it that Christmas feel, but give it a few weeks and they would be buried under a few feet of snow. And so would begin the arduous task of shovelling. Charlotte groaned at this thought – she hated shovelling!

For now, though, Charlotte could still go for her daily walk. This had been essential in keeping her sane as the days stretched into months. It kept her mind from the grief that threatened to consume her. 

She chose the well-worn path that led into the woods that stretched out from the back of the property. Her parents had bought the house shortly after getting married, and Charlotte had grown up exploring these woods. It was filled with childhood memories of fondness and cheerful play; now it had become a sanctuary.

The thick woods offered meagre protection from the cold, but she barely noticed. She trekked onwards, her boots leaving behind footprints. Charlotte glanced up, glimpsing the darkening grey sky between the treetops. It was going to rain or snow soon – either was quite plausible at this time of year.

She briefly debated whether to head back, but shook her head. No, this was her ritual, and she would only turn back once she reached her special spot, she thought stubbornly, turning her collar to the numbing cold.

A blinding flash of lightning in the distance followed by the deep rumble of thunder bought her steps to an abrupt halt. Charlotte glanced upwards once more and then sighed in defeat. It was not wise to be in the woods during a thunder storm, and it was best to head home now.

Turning abruptly, she made her way home. As she exited the woods, her house looming up ahead, Charlotte paused and blinked. For a moment, she had thought there had seen a shimmer in the air close to the house. It was gone now, though, and Charlotte wondered if she had imagined it. Shaking her head, she walked up to the back door, and just as she inserted the key into the lock, a loud crack sounded behind her, reverberating through the air.

Charlotte shrieked, dropping the keys when she had jumped in fright. She closed her eyes tightly, her heart hammering in her chest, and silently reprimanded herself on being so jumpy. She knelt and picked up the fallen keys, and as she stood, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as an eerie feeling washed over her.

Slowly turning her head to look over her shoulder, Charlotte let out a frightened gasp, and dropped her keys again.

There, on the back lawn, was a man. He was unlike any man she had seen before, though. The first thing she noticed was that he was poised, as though ready to spring into a fight, his razor sharp swords held ready to cut down his enemy. His head was bowed, his long white hair falling around his face like a curtain made of the finest silk. 

Charlotte backed up quickly, her back hitting hard against the wooden door. The sound alerted the stranger and his head snapped up, making Charlotte gasp again. His eyes – they were an electrifying blue that shone with a light that was definitely not human. His skin was flawless and smooth and he was just breathtakingly beautiful, even with black gore splattered on his cheek. She felt almost hypnotised just gazing upon him, unable to move or speak, and frozen in place. And then her eyes focused on the pointed ears that peeked through the white of his hair. That was definitely not right.

The stranger blinked and those unnerving blue eyes glanced around, confusion showing in those swirling depths. Slowly, he straightened to his full height, which had to be well over six feet tall. He wore all black, from the shiny armor covering his shoulders and chest, to the black cloak with crimson red lining that almost brushed the ground. The grim color was a stark contrast to the pure white of his hair, on which lay a silver circlet. He stood regal and proud before her, the look on his face haughty and arrogant, mixed with utter confusion.

He slowly turned full circle, his swords held loosely to his sides, as he took in his surroundings. Finally, his attention landed back on Charlotte and she felt her pulse speed up again at the intensity of his gaze. Get inside! Get inside right now! her inner voice screamed. Lock the door and call the police!

Suddenly the stranger let out a strangled cry, dropping his swords to the ground as he clutched at his head with his leather-gloved hands. The cry was of pure pain and made Charlotte’s veins run icy cold at the sound. And still she could not move, even when he fell to his knees.

He glanced up, his eyes locking with hers, and Charlotte glimpsed the desperation in his face before the light left them and he collapsed on the hard cold ground, unmoving.  
Instinct kicked in and Charlotte raced to his side, kneeling by his prone form. She ripped off her gloves and fumbled to feel for a pulse in his neck, breathing a sigh of relief when she found it, sure and steady. But she couldn’t leave him out here in the cold. Somehow she had to get him inside. Charlotte was only five foot and three inches tall, and hardly made of sturdy stuff. But she had one thing going for her – a fierce determination and stubborn will.

Rolling him over onto his back, Charlotte grabbed him under his arms and started to drag him to the house, gritting her teeth with the exertion. He was a dead weight and was definitely heavier than he looked.

She made it to the door and laid him gently back down as she searched for her keys and hastily opened the door when she found them, her hands trembling. Stuffing the keys in her pocket, Charlotte managed to drag him over the threshold. Thankfully the lounge area was right to the left and the floor was hardwood, so this made it easier to pull him along.

Charlotte laid him on the area rug, breathing heavily as she bent over and clutched her knees, eyeing the sofa with trepidation – there was no way she was going to be able to hoist him onto that thing! Best to leave him right here, she thought. She straightened and took a good look at him. His face seemed young and peaceful in sleep, with not a wrinkle in sight. But what she had seen in his eyes was not a look that belong to a young person.

A small groan escaped this strange man’s lips. Charlotte knelt down beside him and felt his forehead, relieved when she detected no sign of fever. She lifted her hand and paused, her attention drawn to the pointy tips of his ears. Were those supposed to be elf ears? She gingerly ran her fingertip along the point, marvelling at how real it felt. Then she pinched it slightly and slowly pulled, frowning when they did not come off.

She let go and sat back on her heels, a frown etched on her dark brows. What the hell? She shook her head. They must be glued on. There’s no way he’s a real elf. Not possible!  
Charlotte stood and shed her jacket and hat, her thick, dark brown hair falling free down to her shoulders. Absently throwing her jacket and hat on a nearby armchair, she tapped her chin thoughtfully as she wondered what to do next. Should she call the police or an ambulance? She had never been in this situation before and honestly didn’t know what to do. Charlotte had always thought that she would remain level headed and calm during an emergency, but right now she was hesitating and all common sense had fled. Was it shock?

The stranger let out a low moan from his lips and Charlotte tensed, wondering if he was going to wake up soon? Was he going to impale her with those dangerous looking swords of his? At this thought, she jumped up. The swords were outside. She glanced back at the still man and wondered if it would be wise to bring them in. Coming to a decision, she dashed out to retrieve them. But now she had the problem of where to hide them. Glancing wildly around the house, she decided under the sofa was as good a place as any.

Soft mumbling bought her attention back and she crouched near the man to make out what he was saying. The words were soft and flowed like strings of music through the air, but she could not make out their meaning. It seemed to be in a different language. She leaned in closer, her ear almost to his mouth, trying in vain to make out what he was saying. The tone changed subtly, and Charlotte pulled back. She startled and scrambled back when she saw that he was awake and watching her, his intense gaze unnerving. He remained absolutely still, though, as he just stared at her.

Finally he opened his mouth and the same language he had spoken earlier flowed from his lips. Charlotte frowned and shook her head.

“Sorry. I can’t understand you,” she said slowly.

It was his turn to now frown. Maybe because he couldn’t understand her.

“I, um, I’m going to call the police. Maybe they can help you,” she finally said. Charlotte stood, and hesitated. He was still motionless, clearly lost in thought. Calling the police would be the logical thing to do right now, but she just couldn’t seem to bring herself to do it. But she had to do something.

She turned to go and find her phone, when he spoke. What he said made her instantly still.

“I need to get back to my world.”


	2. Chapter 2

He recalled the sensation of being flung from his majestic elk, the foul arrows of the orcs having felled his faithful companion. Instinct kicked in and he rolled gracefully, coming to a crouch as his body tensed in the preparation of fighting off his enemies. His hands hovered in anticipation by the hilt of his swords, his head lowered as he breathed in and stilled himself. All around, the screams and cries of the battle swarmed the air, permeating with the metallic smell of blood and gore. The sounds faded to the background as he concentrated on the heavy treads of the orcs that were now surrounding him. 

Thranduil felt a smirk pull at his lips. If only they knew how foolish that actual thought of trying to kill him was. He would cut them all down, his treasured swords slicing through them with laughable ease.

Suddenly the air seemed to constrict around him, making it hard to breathe. Thranduil could not move nor utter a sound as the air was painfully and slowly squeezed from his lungs. Just as he thought his life essence was about to be snuffed out, the pressure suddenly vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

Thranduil blinked, his vision dotted with pricks of dancing white dots. He remained still as he waited for it to subside, and subconsciously noted the eerie silence that surrounded him.

A sudden and loud thud caused him to snap his head up, his body tensing as he prepared to kill whatever enemy advanced upon him. To his surprise, though, he saw only a human woman. She looked petrified as she pressed herself flat against the door, her hazel eyes wide with expressive fear.

Thranduil blinked as he took in his surroundings, and he stood slowly, dazed by what he was witnessing. The structure behind the woman was unlike any he had ever seen before, and as he slowly turned around, he saw that he was in the country, with woods surrounding them. There was no sign of the orcs, or the battle or even Dale. It was as though it had all just vanished into thin air. No. It didn’t vanish. It was I who disappeared. This though came with crystal clear clarity and his attention was drawn once more to the strange human woman. Does she have the answers?

The woman in question looked paralyzed with her palpable terror, and Thranduil could clearly see the panicked thoughts running through her head - the most obvious was that she wanted to flee from him. Thranduil wasn’t completely oblivious to the fact that he was intimidating, and used it to his advantage many times. But right now, this was more of a hindrance as he needed answers, and she was the only one to give them.

Suddenly, a crippling, sharp pain shot through his head and he could not hold back the tortured cry that escaped his lips. He fell to his knees, clutching his head in a feeble attempt to fight it off. He glanced up with much effort at the woman, realising how utterly helpless he was right now. The last thought that fluttered through his mind was that he was now completely at her mercy.

 

ooOoo

 

The darkness slowly faded from his mind, mercifully taking the pain along with it. Thranduil cracked his eyes open, but a mass of dark brown hair obscured his vision, the ends uncomfortably tickling his face.

“Would you mind removing your hair from my face?” He said, careful to keep his voice low.

The woman startled and immediately scuttled back, her back hitting hard against an odd looking piece of furniture. Thranduil remained absolutely still, sensing that this human was rather skittish. He wanted to put her at ease, especially since she was the only source of help he had at his disposal right now.

So he just stared at her, waiting for her to relax somewhat. She was a rather odd looking human. There was no denying that she was female, but he had never before seen a female with such questionable clothing. She had on a pair of tight leggings, thought they were deep blue and seemed to be made of a different material. Her top moulded against her womanly curves and was a garish pink; the color hurt his eyes. And then there was her hair - it was a butchered mess! He had never seen a human woman in Middle Earth that had willing shorn her locks to such tear-inducing length. No elf would dare cut off their hair, and he found himself immediately disliking the look on her.

“Where am I?” he finally asked, still remaining motionless.

The woman frowned as she stared back at him, and shook her head before mumbling something in a language strangely different from his own.

Thranduil frowned as the words coiled inside his mind, his brain desperately trying to make sense of what she was saying.

She stood, looking uncertain as what to do next and started prattling off some more peculiar words. And suddenly, it was like they seamlessly flowed into a speech that he understood, though he did not know the name of the language or how he came to understand it. It did not matter. He could now communicate with her. She was saying something about calling…what was the word? Police? He didn’t know what that word meant, but he understood the cold fear that shot through him that was associated with it. He had to stop her! He had to make her understand.

“I need to get back to my world,” he said as calmly as he could, even though, inside, he was screaming to spring into action. He could leave right now, but where would he go? He did not know where here was, and it was plainly obvious that this world was different from his own. 

The woman stilled and then slowly turned around to gaze down at him, a look of disbelief flooding her face.

“What do you mean ‘your world’?” She enquired, caution tinting her words.

His armor, though finely crafted, was not very comfortable to lie in, and Thranduil resisted the urge to shift lest he startle the anxious little being. She reminded him of a small wild animal, ready to flee at the first sound of danger from an approaching predator.

“May I sit up?” he asked, trying very hard to keep the ire out of his voice.

“What?” she asked; a little too rude for his taste. Her eyes widened when she realised how uncomfortable he must be and she hastily nodded, motioning for him to go right ahead. Thranduil resisted any biting remark that was on the tip of his tongue and pushed himself up in measured movements. His eyes flickered to the girl and he suppressed his smirk of amusement when he noted that she had her arms folded across her belly and was watching him with hawk-like eyes at every move he made. It was as though she expected him to attack her outright and her tiny form was taut, ready to flee if he even so much as lifted a hand in her direction.

“Relax, little one,” he sighed, shifting so that his back was resting against the furniture and his legs extended out in front of him. “I intend you no ill will.”

“You’re a stranger,” she pointed out, suspicion coloring her voice.

Thranduil kept his face neutral as he replied, “Yes. And you are a stranger to me. You have bought me into your…dwelling.” He glanced around and grimaced at how garish and vulgar everything seemed to his elvish eyes. The furniture was hideous and the lighting unnatural. He turned his attention back to her. “How do I know that it is not you that intends to harm me?” He raised a dark, thick brow.

She let out a bark of a laugh, the sound rough to his sensitive ears. At that thought, Thranduil lifted his hand to his left ear, the tip sore and tender. Why was his ear aching? 

“You’re bigger than me and can easily overpower me. If anything, I think you have the advantage here,” she pointed out, breaking him out of his musings about his ear.

Thranduil dropped his hand back into his lap and examined this trembling wraith of a creature. Outwardly, she looked fearful, but her words showed that she was obstinate and brazen.

He let out a tired sigh, wishing he had more of a comfortable spot to sit in. “Then you have my word that I will do you no harm,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively.

She chewed on her bottom lip, and seemed to finally come to a decision. Careful to still maintain distance, she stepped into the room and came to sit on one of the chairs. She tapped her feet nervously against the wooden floor and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles white with all their wringing. Her eyes kept nervously darting to him before shifting away, as though she couldn’t gaze at him for too long.

Losing his patience at her rudeness, Thranduil asked sarcastically, “Am I to sit on the floor like a dog, or are you going to allow me the comfort of sitting properly on this…furniture?” He frowned. What was the proper word for it? Chair didn’t sound right, but he couldn’t come up with another name for it.

She blinked, and actually blushed furiously. Thranduil didn’t know what to make of this creature.

“Oh! Um, yes. Yes. Of course,” she stammered, averting her eyes from his penetrating gaze.

Thranduil stood, the haughty look gracing his face once more, and eyed the…sofa! Yes! That was the name for it. Sofa. He longed to remove his armor, but he didn’t think the girl would appreciate him taking such liberties. So he promptly sat down, his back straight and his eyes trained on her.

“You asked what I meant by ‘my world’?” he said after she failed to start up the conversation again. “Is it not obvious that I am not from here?”

“Not really,” she claimed, raising her eyes to meet his. “You could be cosplaying.”

Thranduil cocked his head, perplexity painting his face. “I do not know the word of which you speak.”

“Cosplaying. Like when a person dresses up as a character from a show, or comic, or video game,” she replied, waving her hands around her for emphasis.

“I know not of what you speak, child,” he huffed.

Her eyes flashed in a dangerous glint. “Do not call me that!” she warned.

“Call you what?”

“A child.”

Thranduil blinked, a frown drawing his brows down. “To me you are but a child,” he said simply.

This comment seemed to make her angry, but Thranduil could not understand why. He simply did not understand her.

“Who are you?” she finally asked.

“I am King Thranduil, son of Oropher, and I am King of the Woodland Realm.”

Her eyes widened. And then she let out a laugh, clearly finding amusement at what he had just said.

“May I enquire as to what is so amusing?” he snapped.

She paused and then shook her head. “You honestly expect me to believe that you’re an elf from Tolkien’s universe?”

“Speak plainly, woman.”

“Charlotte.”

He paused, confused.

“My name is Charlotte.” Amusement was still dancing in her hazel colored eyes. She clearly still did not believe him.

“Then speak plainly, Lady Charlotte.”

A serious look came over her and Charlotte sat back in the chair, her eyes scrutinising him. Thranduil chose to boldly hold her gaze as he patiently waited. Though, his patience was running very thin with this one.

“Tolkien was a writer who created the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings stories,” she explained slowly. 

Thranduil understood the bit about a Hobbit and the Rings, but he couldn’t quite grasp what she was trying to explain. What did she mean ‘stories’?

“Thranduil was the Elf-King of Mirkwood in the Hobbit tales. But that’s all it is: a fictional story written long ago by a man.”

Thranduil was silent for a moment as he processed this bit of information. Finally he spoke, his deep voice resonating through the room. “Are you trying to tell me that I am a figment of someone’s imagination? A story that is told at bedtime for little children?”

“Um, I wouldn’t exactly say…”

He cut her off. “Is it not plain to see that I am flesh and blood? Can you not see that I am an elf by my ears and my eyes?”

“You could be wearing contacts and prosthetics,” Charlotte said, her voice going timid again.

“What?”

Charlotte sighed, wondering if she should try and explain it to him. “Look, this is ridiculous. There’s no way that I believe that you’re an actual elf. You’re obviously crazy.”

Why, the insolent little…

“I think you should go,” she stated, standing for emphasis.

Thranduil stilled, his anger instantly evaporating. He heaved a sigh and gazed down at his hands. “I have no way to prove to you that what I am saying is true. I only have your good faith.”

He didn’t dare look up and she didn’t say anything. Begging was beneath him, but Thranduil knew that he desperately needed her assistance. He lifted his gaze. “I am simply asking for your help. I need your help. I need you to trust me, just as I am trusting you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Charlotte chewed on her bottom lip, indecisiveness warring within her. There was no way she could believe him. He was crazy, that much was obvious. Fictional characters from books simply didn’t come to life and appear in the real world. It just wasn’t conceivable. But what if he’s telling the truth? A sneaky little voice whispered in her mind. Charlotte shook her head, unwilling to even entertain the possibility.

Thranduil watched her, his gaze unblinking and penetrative. When Charlotte shook her head, obviously refusing to accept his words and his plea, something inside of him snapped. What kind of place was this where the inhabitants refused to aid a stranger that was clearly in peril? Thranduil stood in a swift and smooth motion and vaguely noted that Charlotte stilled instantly, her eyes growing large as fear stole back into those hazel depths.

“If you insist on proof, then I have no choice but to give you this one shred of evidence I hold,” he stated, his voice icy cold as he glared down his nose at her. Thranduil was livid that he was being forced to reveal something like this. Something personal that served as a painful reminder of what he had endured.

Charlotte swallowed hard. Her palms (suddenly clammy) lay flat against the sofa on either side of her and her jiggling feet stilled as she prepared to make a dash for it. And then in a blink of an eye, Thranduil was suddenly in front of her, bent at the waist and his face mere millimeters from her own. His hands were clasped behind his back and his hair fell forward like silky silver strands of spider webs. 

“You demand proof? Here is you proof,” he spat, his deep voice low in octave. His electric blue eyes shimmered with fury, making Charlotte lean back in the couch in alarm.

Thranduil closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he concentrated. And then the left side of his face started to contort, the clear, unmarred skin warping and twisting to reveal a grotesque and open wound in its place. Sinuous tendons and raw meaty muscle glistened, as though the wound was recent and unhealed. Thranduil slowly opened his eyes and the once clear blue of his left eye was now smoky grey and blind.

Charlotte cringed and could not help the horrified gasp that escaped her lips. She could not tear her gaze away from the abhorrent sight. Thranduil abruptly straightened and she watched in morbid fascination as the flesh knitted back until it smoothed over and was perfect again. Color bled back into his eye, and Thranduil stared down at her, his face once again the mask of perfection. 

Charlotte swallowed hard and turned her gaze away, closing her eyes as though she were in pain. She was obviously disgusted by this, by him, Thranduil thought. How could she not be? He was but a monster in her eyes now. The irony was not lost on him: the one piece of proof he had to get her to help was also the thing that would drive her away.  
Thranduil let out a heavy sigh and turned his back on the woman, ashamed at his rash behaviour. But he had had no choice but to reveal this grave wound to her. 

“What happened?” she asked from behind him, her voice hoarse and thick with emotion.

Thranduil hung his head as the memory came swirling back. “A dragon.”

Silence stretched out as Thranduil became lost in his dark and morbid memories of the event that had caused this infliction. He could still smell the rancid smoke, thick enough to choke on as it polluted the air all around him. Screams and cries of pain echoed cruelly to his ears, but wherever he looked, his vision was obscured by the smoke that made it impossible to see anything. Suddenly, there was a swooshing noise from above, like a blade cutting through the air, and soon a shadow emerged from the swirling black and grey: a dragon. Thranduil instinctively made a move, but was not quick enough as the dragon opened its jaws in a gaping roar and let loose a stream of molten fire.

Thranduil startled from his memories when he felt a cold hand tentatively take his hand. He glanced down and saw Charlotte standing by his side, her hand in his own, and she was staring back at him. There was no pity or disgust on her face and Thranduil felt a sense of surprise to see acceptance and understanding in those hazel depths. But he also glimpsed profound sadness, though he didn’t think that it was directed at him. This thought caused him to frown.

“I’m sorry,” she stated, her voice sincere.

Thranduil gave a curt nod and tore his gaze away. Standing side by side, they stared out the living room window that overlooked the woods. The late afternoon twilit sky would soon give way to the dark march of night, and Thranduil and Charlotte observed the light misty rain that hazed the air. Dense fog rolled through the trees, slow and thick like a creature taking its time to devour the lands. 

Thranduil glanced down and realised that her hand was still in his. He gently pulled his hand from hers and she let him go without protest.

Thranduil shifted to face her. “Why have you not fled in disgust?”

Charlotte gave a smile, but it was without humor. She turned her attention back to the window and the scene beyond. “I’ve…seen worse.”

Thranduil felt his brows furrow in surprise. How could this sheltered and timid human have witnessed worse? Thranduil puzzled over this, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I would like to help you, Thranduil, but I don’t know how,” Charlotte finally spoke up.

Thranduil sighed, barely registering her acceptance. “Nor do I. This is even beyond my own comprehension.” He paused and then said. “I apologise for that…display.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I understand that you needed me to believe. I admit, though, it was quite…jarring, but it needed to be done.” She ran her hand through her short wavy hair, and once again Thranduil felt a mournful feeling take over him at the state of her hair. He could imagine that if she were an elf in middle earth, the long tresses would fall in beautiful dark brown waves down her back…

“How are you so calm?” she suddenly blurted out, jarring him from his musings.

Thranduil was silent for so long that she wondered if he was going to answer her. 

“I have faced many dangers over my countless years. One thing that it has all taught me is to keep a level head. One cannot afford to go into hysterics. If you do, you’re as good as dead.”

Charlotte paled, but said nothing else. 

Finally, she cleared her throat. “I’ll…make us something to eat. Hopefully we can think of something afterwards.” This was said in a whisper, and Thranduil guessed that she needed, or wanted, some space…from him.

Charlotte turned to head to the kitchen, but paused and looked back at him. Thranduil raised a dark thick brow at the puzzled expression that crossed her rounded face, but he patiently waited for her to voice her inner thoughts.

“What do elves eat? Are you vegetarian or do you eat meat?”

“Yes, we do eat meat, though we do not consume it as much as the dwarves.”

Relief flooded through her, but Charlotte suddenly felt nervous. Would the Elven King, who must be used to fine foods, even like her cooking? This was going to interesting.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte busied herself in the kitchen. She had to keep busy as her mind was threatening to go into meltdown. How had this happened? How was such a thing possible? There were no answers to her burning questions. 

Her mind drifted to the Elven King, who was currently in the living room, and wondered how he was managing to keep so level headed. He had given his explanation, but if their situations had been reversed, Charlotte was a hundred percent certain that she would be throwing a colossal tantrum. She shuddered at the thought of being stuck in Middle Earth. Orcs, dragons and other countless dangers was something she just couldn’t comprehend. This was just too surreal and all she knew right now was that Thranduil was indeed here and that, for some unfathomable reason, needed her help. 

Charlotte pondered whether their positions had been reversed, would Thranduil be as willing to help her? With a dead certainty, Charlotte knew that he would. In the books he was described as a wise and kind King, though the movies portrayed him as arrogant and haughty, which he could be under the right circumstances. And right now, this was definitely one of those circumstances.

Charlotte had decided to make spaghetti as it was the most simple and fastest dish to prepare. She strained the cooked noodles, the steam rising around her face and she absently wiped a damp stray of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

“What is that?”

Charlotte let out a little yelp of surprise and turned to see Thranduil standing behind her, though he was careful to maintain a respectable distance. Her eyes widened when she noticed that his polished and gleaming dark armor had been discarded and he now stood before her in a dark grey…was that a tunic? and black breeches. The high collar reached up to his strong jaw line and was fasten all the way down. Charlotte idly wondered if it was a sense of propriety that elves possessed that made them not want to show much skin. The only pale white skin that showed was his face and hands.

His silver circlet was now discarded, and yet his hair stayed perfectly in place. Thranduil was the epitome of perfection.

Charlotte realised she had been staring and quickly turned her back on him so that he wouldn’t see the deep blush that rose from her neck all the way to the roots of her hair.

“I’m making spaghetti. Um, have you ever tried it,” she asked awkwardly as she ran cool water over the pasta.

“No,” he replied in a clipped tone. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was now slowly pacing around the kitchen, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes glancing everywhere and taking in every detail. 

“Everything must seem different to you,” she mused as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Indeed,” he replied absently, not even glancing her way. His attention was now drawn to the water cooler and he bent at the waist to examine it more closely, his hands still clasped behind his back.

“Would you like something to drink?” she offered politely.

Thranduil straightened and faced Charlotte. “Wine, if you have any.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip. She had been thinking more along the lines of tea or coffee. Of course the King of the Woodland Realm would demand wine!

“Um, sorry. I don’t have anything alcoholic here. I don’t drink it.”

Thranduil cocked her head as though she were an interesting piece of specimen that he wanted to study. 

“May I enquire as to why you choose to abstain?” He took a step closer to her and Charlotte went rigid. Thranduil immediately halted in his advancement. He had to keep reminding himself that Charlotte was very skittish and fearful.

“Personal reasons,” Charlotte hedge and turned around to prepare the rest of the food. She ignored him, though she could feel his eyes trained on her, and went to set the kitchen table. She frowned as she stared at the measly spread on the bare wooden table. She hadn’t even thought to use a table cloth, though, truthfully, she had no idea where the table cloths were. This was so going to offend him, a King who was used to luxuries and fine quality and high standards. Oh well, there wasn’t much she could do about it now.   
Thranduil was just going to have to accept it. 

Charlotte spun around to get some cans of Coke and let out another yelp when she almost collided with the elf, who had come to stand right behind her.

“You startle very easily,” Thranduil stated.

Charlotte scowled and stepped around him to head to the fridge. “It’s because I barely know you.”

“I gave you my word that I would not harm you, Charlotte. Be at ease around me.”

Charlotte snatched two cans from the fridge and closed the door. She walked back to the kitchen table and handed Thranduil his can as she passed him.

Thranduil held up the cold aluminum can to eye level, turning it over in his hand as he studied it from every angle. He glanced over at Charlotte, who was now seated and decided to join her, sitting opposite her.

“And what do I do with this?” 

Charlotte realised in that moment that she was going to have to teach him how everything worked, for things in this world were very much foreign and unknown to him.

Lifting the can up, Charlotte made a show of pulling the tab back, which emitted a low hiss. She then lifted the can to her lips and took a mouthful. 

“Like that,” she stated after she had swallowed her mouthful.

Thranduil stared at her for a heartbeat and the turned his attention to the can still in his hand. Charlotte pressed her lips together to stop from smiling as he fumbled a few times. Finally Thranduil popped the tab with a triumphant cry and he beamed proudly at her, his luminous face alight in a rare display of emotion. Charlotte had to wonder if this was the same elf she had encountered earlier.

She watched with bated breath as he lifted the can hesitantly to his lips and took a small sip. He immediately grimaced and pulled an undignified face.

Pushing the can towards Charlotte, he said flatly, “You may keep that and never offer it to me again!”

Charlotte let out a giggle, but stopped immediately when his eyes locked on to her. It seemed that her unguarded laughter had surprised him. Charlotte suddenly realised that Thranduil was studying her just as much as she was studying him, and that thought was disconcerting.

“Water?”

He gave a curt nod and Charlotte rose from her seat to fetch him some from the water cooler. She returned to the table, placing the tall glass of cool water before Thranduil and sat down, determined to finish her meal.

Thranduil was now prodding at the spaghetti with his fork, his face oddly neutral.

“Watch me,” she offered, feeling sorry for him.

Charlotte twirled her fork around, wrapping the noodles and meaty pasta sauce around the utensil, using her spoon to shape it and keep it in place. Then she leaned forward shovelled the food in her mouth. Leaning back in her chair, she chewed her food and washed it down with her Coke. Charlotte had to concede that the starlit King was a fast learner as he expertly spooned the slippery pasta onto his fork and ate his mouthful.

When he had swallowed, she asked, “So what do you think?”

“It’s edible,” were his only words, cementing in her mind that he was indeed going to be hard to please.


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner had progressed with awkward silence, with neither Charlotte nor the Elven King quite knowing what to say to each other. Charlotte sensed that Thranduil was sulking. He was not happy, that much was obvious, and Charlotte knew she would be, too, if she were in Thranduil’s situation. The worst part was that Charlotte didn’t know what to do to make things easier for him.

Clearing away the dishes, Charlotte placed them in the sink with the rest of the growing pile to presoak before she worked up inclination to tackle them. She was regretting the fact that she let them go unwashed for so long - another reminder at how inept she was as a functional adult. To Thranduil’s credit, though, he didn’t make any comment on the messy state of the kitchen, and had simply stood up and strode back to the living room.

Sighing, Charlotte hung her head as she leaned against the counter and waited for the sink to fill up, the soapy suds expanding and floating on the surface of the water like fluffy trails of dissolving clouds.

Charlotte knew they needed to talk and try and figure things out. Only problem was: how could they go about resolving this mess when neither had any clue as to how all of this happened?

Charlotte turned off the faucet and made her way to the living room. Thranduil was standing tall and resolute by the window, staring aimlessly out at the night shrouded countryside. Charlotte paused in the archway, momentarily enthralled as his hair glistened like a silvery waterfall that cascaded down his rigid back. His stance was sure and proud and he held himself in such a regal manner, that there left very little doubt as to his claims of being the Elven King of the Woodland Realm.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked softly, reluctant to disturb him. “Or maybe coffee?”

Thranduil turned gracefully to face her, his hair barely stirring with his movement, and raised a thick, dark brow. “What is coffee?”

“It’s a warm beverage, like tea, but it’s bitter and gross. Well, to me it is anyway. Though many people like it,” Charlotte said, fully aware that she was babbling. She couldn’t help it. Thranduil was intimidating. “Do elves drink tea?”

“Yes,” Thranduil replied, turning his back to her in a dismissive manner. “We drink tea.”

Charlotte didn’t linger, and went to prepare the hot beverages. She made her tea the way she liked it, with two sugars and plenty of milk, and laid Thranduil’s on a tray with a bowl of sugar, cream and milk.

When she returned, Charlotte was unsurprised to see Thranduil still in the position she had left him. He was like a statue, cold and unmoving and completely lost in his sombre thoughts.

“Tea’s ready,” she stated as she lay the tray down on the coffee table. Taking her own mug, Charlotte went to sit on the cream color sofa, sinking into the plush cushion. Thranduil let out a wisp of a sigh, almost as though he was just tolerating her presence and going through the motions to get through this whole ordeal.

Charlotte studied him from the rim of her mug as she blew on the hot liquid. Thranduil paused at the table and stared down at the contents in silent contemplation. He then knelt down and prepared his tea, adding one sugar and a dash of cream, before sitting down on the matching armchair.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked as he blew on his tea.

Charlotte, realising that she had, indeed, been staring, felt the traitorous blush creep onto her cheeks. “It’s not every day an elf appears in the real world.”

“Hmm. But my world is as real as yours. You and I are living proof of that,” he pointed out.

“I suppose,” Charlotte murmured, taking a sip from her mug. “But in my world, this world, elves are definitely not real. So to see a real elf is…fascinating.”

Thranduil quirked a brow, a slow smile creeping on his lips. “You find me fascinating?”

Charlotte openly gaped. If she wasn’t mistaken, the great Elven King was actually teasing her.

“Only because you’re the first, and probably the only, elf I will ever meet,” she hastened to correct. She really didn’t want Thranduil to get the wrong idea and think she was fawning over him. Though, it wouldn’t be too hard to be captivated by this ethereal being.

Thranduil held her gaze as he took a sip of his tea, making Charlotte squirm. She hastily glanced away, finding his stare too penetrating and invasive.

“So what do you remember? Do you have any idea how you got here?” she deflected.

Thranduil leaned forward and placed his tea back on the tray before leaning back in the armchair and lacing his fingers together. Charlotte felt a brief flash of envy at the impeccable posture he possessed and the dancing grace in which he moved.

“The last thing I remember is being flung from my elk when he was felled by the orc arrows. I could hear those foul creatures surrounding me and as I prepared to fight them, the very air around me seemed to close in, making it near impossible to breathe. When it eased off, I found myself here.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he recalled the memory.

Charlotte held her breath. Thranduil must be speaking of the Battle of the Five Armies. It was no wonder that he appeared on her lawn looking like he was going to fly into action and cut her down. It also explained the armor and swords. Her eyes shifted to the floor, where those very swords were currently nearby under the very soda on which she was perched. _Should she give them back to him?_ She wondered. _Maybe later._ For now, she wanted some answers _._

Charlotte placed her mug on the table and then rested her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped in front of her. “I thought I saw the air…shimmer in the spot that you appeared in, but I just thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. We can go out in the morning and examine the area, if you like.”

Thranduil merely nodded in acquiesce. They both sensed that it was going to be a futile search that probably wouldn’t yield any answers. But it was worth a shot.

“How do you know how to speak English?” she enquired curiously.

“English?” Thranduil asked, his brows furrowed in concentration as he rolled the word over his tongue. “Is that the language we are speaking?”

Charlotte gave a nod.

Thranduil tilted his head to the side, his eyes on her, but not really seeing her. “I do not know. Somehow, the language came to me, but it’s incomplete.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know the words, but I do not know the meaning of some of those words.” He let out a frustrated sigh as he tried to find the right words to explain it to her.

“Like coffee?” Charlotte offered.

Thranduil nodded. “Yes, like the word ‘coffee’. I know the words, but with certain things, I do not know _what_ they are.” Thranduil lifted his gaze and glanced around the room. “Is this truly your home?”

Charlotte frowned at the sudden change of topic, and paused as she considered whether to answer him. “It belonged to my parents.”

Thranduil’s attention snapped back to her. “And where are your parents? I have seen no sign of them since my arrival.”

“They passed away a little over a year ago,” she replied, her voice going to almost a whisper.

“My condolences,” Thranduil replied, though they were just empty words to her ears. There was little to no empathy or emotions in his spoken words.

“Why do you ask?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“This place does not seem to fit in with your character. It has none of your personality.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “You don’t even know me. How would you possibly know what my personality is?”

Instead of answering, Thranduil chose to voice something else that had been bothering him. “What I do want to know is what in all of Middle Earth did you do to your hair?”

Charlottes hand flew up to touch the ends of her tresses, scowling at his rudeness. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Why would you butcher it in such a way?”

Charlotte cracked a smile, understating dawning as to why he would be offended. “In my world, it is normal for a woman to have any hairstyle, whether it be short, long or completely shaven off.”

“How…disconcerting,” Thranduil finally said, his featured looking appalled. “And is it also normal for women of your kind to dress the way you do?”

Charlotte glanced down at her attire. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most fashionable choice of clothing, but it was comfy and nothing out of the norm. Though, if she recalled correctly, the women in Middle Earth wore dresses. Her attire must seem odd to him.

“A lot is different in this world, Thranduil,” Charlotte tried to explain. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t intentionally being rude. This was more of a cultural difference than anything else. “This is not Middle Earth.”

“That is quite the understatement,” Thranduil replied drily.

Charlotte sighed and rubbed her forehead. There was no way she would risk taking him to the city to show him exactly how ‘different’ her world really was. He would be appalled. Repulsed, even. Thankfully it was winter, so he wouldn’t get the chance to see how scantily humans of this world dressed, especially in the summer.

Taking him out in public was not a good idea, either way. There was no knowing what would happen. Government officials would surely become involved and cart him off, never to be seen again. Charlotte shuddered at this thought.

No, Thranduil was going to have to remain hidden here. For the first time in a very long time, Charlotte was eternally grateful for the seclusion of her parent’s house.

So how else was she to explain to him? She glanced around, her eyes landing on the television, and she chewed at her bottom lip. _Best not to show him any HBO channels. He would be scandalised. Maybe just stick with the news…_

“Here,” she said, standing and walking over to the TV cabinet. Charlotte located the remote and flicked on the television, the sudden noise causing the Elven King to flinch. “This might give you an idea of how different everything really is.”

Thranduil’s crystalline blue eyes widened as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands grasping the armrests. His lips parted in surprise as images and sounds flooded his senses, jarring the peacefulness of his mind with its pollution. But as much as he was instantly repelled by this new sensory overload, Thranduil could not turn his gaze away, captivated by the flashing images.

“I’m going to finish dishes,” Charlotte stated. Thranduil didn’t even acknowledge her words.

Twenty minutes later, Charlotte had finished drying the last cutlery and wiped her hands on the dish towel. She glanced surreptitiously around the kitchen, halfway pleased at how much better it looked. Placing the dishtowel on its allocated hook, Charlotte decided to go and check on the elf.

Thranduil was reclined in the armchair, his eyes still glued to the screen. A frown was embedded deep on his face as he continued to watch as images flashed on the screen. He glanced up at her approach.

“Is this really how your world is?” he enquired.

Charlotte turned her attention to the screen, the current news showing wars, shootings and bombings. “Afraid so,” she said with a sigh. “Do you want me to turn it off?”

“Please.”

Charlotte hit the off button on the remote and blissful silence filled the room once more. She turned to face him and saw the pinched look in his eyes. He was worried, as well as tired.

“I know this must be difficult, Thranduil, but we’ll figure this out,” she said, trying to sound reassuring.

Thranduil stood up, his body uncoiling like an agile feline, and he came to stand before her. Charlotte no longer felt any fear at his presence and calmly gazed up at the towering King before her.

“I appreciate your words, little one.” He stared down at her, his face a beautifully sculpted mask. “But do not give hope when there is no hope to be had.”

“Quite the pessimist, aren’t you?” she commented, folding her arms over her chest.

The corners of his mouth slowly lifted, but didn’t quite form into a full smile. “In this case, I am quite justified in being a pessimist.”

“What you need is a good night’s rest. Things will look better in the morning,” she assured. God, she only hoped things would be better by tomorrow.

Thranduil sniffed disdainfully. It was then that she noted the flecks of black blood splattered on his cheek.

“But first, you need a shower.”

In a bold move, Charlotte grabbed Thranduil’s hand and led him upstairs to the bathroom. It wasn’t large, by no means, and currently felt rather crowded with the both of them in there.

Releasing his hand, she strode over to the tub. “This is the hot water tap and this is the cold water,” Charlotte instructed, turning each on and off to show him how it worked. “Pull this knob here to get the shower going. Or, if you prefer a bath, here is the stopper.”

She was rushing through her words, barely pausing for breath as she just wanted to get out of here. She turned to face him to see if he understood. Thranduil was standing to the side, watching everything with clinically assessing eyes, though his face showed barely any emotion.

“I’ll grab you a towel and I’ll have to dig around for some clean clothes for you.”

Charlotte grabbed a thick beige towel from the bathroom closet and thrust it in Thranduil’s hands. She turned to leave him to it, when he spoke up.

“You expect me to figure this…contraption out?”

Charlotte paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Well, yeah. I’m not exactly going to volunteer to bathe you. This is something that you’re going to have to figure out on your own.”

He quirked a brow and Charlotte instantly blushed and bolted out the bathroom. Exhaling deeply, she decided the next course of action was to find some clothes for him. Which was going to be quite difficult. The elf was taller than six feet and her father’s clothes would be far too small for Thranduil. There was only one other alternative.

Charlotte sighed in resignation and made her way to the guest bedroom. Once there, she opened up the closet door and found the boxes she had stored there, out of sight and out of mind. She heaved them out of the closet and started opening the boxes to search through the stuff Eric had left behind. It had been four months and he hadn’t come back to get the rest of his stuff, so she doubted that he would miss a few items of clothing. She reasoned that they were being put to good use. The bastard was lucky she hadn’t burned them…

Charlotte shoved the thoughts of Eric out of her mind, not wanting to be consumed in anger. And she certainly didn’t want to trudge up _those_ painful memories.

Finally coming across some clothing, Charlotte started throwing them on the bed for further inspection. Eric had been tall, but nowhere near as tall as Thranduil. There was a good chance they wouldn’t fit, but they would have to do for now until she could get out and buy Thranduil some other clothing. Petty as it seemed, she didn’t really didn’t fancy seeing Thranduil in Eric’s clothing.

Suddenly a deafening yell echoed through the house and Charlotte bolted upright. _Was Thranduil in pain again? Was he going to pass out and bang his head against something?_

Fear overtaking her, Charlotte bolted to the bathroom and pounded on the door.

“Thranduil! Are you alright?” she shouted, panic shooting through her veins like ice. She could just imagine him lying there unconscious on the cold tile floor.

A string of foreign words that sounded distinctly like curses followed her enquiry. Then the door was yanked open and Charlotte stood there gaping at the half naked elf before her with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

Words fled her and all Charlotte could do was stare dumbly at the perfectly chiselled form of his body. He was like the statue of Renaissance times, sculpted to perfect form. Charlotte quickly shut her mouth with an audible snap and averted her eyes. “What happened? Are you in pain?”

“I was just blasted with icy cold water!” he growled, scowling darkly.

Charlotte pressed her lips together to stop from smiling as relief flooded her. She kept her gaze resolutely on the wall, looking anywhere but at him. “You have to adjust the temperature. Here, I’ll show you,” she said, slipping past him, careful not to bump into him, and turned on both taps to get the water perfectly warm.

“There, that should be good,” she said, straightening.

Charlotte turned around to make her exit, but found her way out was now blocked by Thranduil, who had been standing behind her and observing what she had been doing. Her eyes widened at the expanse of milky white chest before her and she tore her gaze away.

“I’ll…uh, just leave you to it then,” she murmured as she dodged around him and closed the door shut behind her with an audible bang. Charlotte cringed and leaned heavily against the door, gulping for air. That had been rather uncomfortable. And embarrassing!

Suddenly the door gave way behind her and Charlotte found herself sprawled on the floor and staring up at the bathroom ceiling. Thranduil was looming over her, looking down at her with a quizzical look. Charlotte slapped her hands over her eyes so that she didn’t accidently look up his towel.

“I’m not looking! I swear!”

“And I appreciate that,” he deadpanned. “But where is the soap?”

Hands still clutched over her eyes, Charlotte replied, “There’s body wash. It’s in one of the bottles. Just…just figure it out!” she groaned as she sat up and scrambled to get out of there as fast as she could, missing the amused expression that graced Thranduil’s face in her wake.


	5. Chapter 5

Charlotte’s cheeks were still flaming red from her mortifying experience, and she hastily stuffed what little clothes she could find in the dresser situated on the one side of the room. A dark wood double sized sleigh bed was placed against the middle of the wall and a white quilt embellished with images of birds and flowers graced the bed. Not something she would have chosen, but her mother had been very much the girly girl – the floral wallpaper in the living room proof of this feminine trait. Charlotte disliked the way the house was decorated, but Charlotte could not bring herself to change any of it. It felt as though she would be dishonoring her parents by doing such a thing.

Shutting the drawer with harder force than necessary, Charlotte strode to the closet and proceeded to stack the boxes back in their hiding spot. She stiffened when she felt Thranduil’s presence enter the room, like a silent, but formidable, storm that was brewing and could not be ignored.

Charlotte kept her back to him. She just hoped that he had found the clothes she had laid by the bathroom door and wasn’t currently wearing _that_ towel.

“You can sleep here. I know it’s not much, considering that you’re used to better…” Charlotte trailed off and closed the closet door. She decided it was time to face him and maybe pretend that the whole fiasco had never happened.

Charlotte blinked in surprise. Thranduil was wearing plain black pajama pants that were a bit short at the legs, and a simple black shirt that was a bit too snug. Charlotte hadn’t been able to find much other shirts in any other color: Eric had been a plain cut sort of guy, preferring black and white, and sometimes, if he was feeling adventurous, he would wear grey.

But as she stared at Thranduil, Charlotte had to admit that black was a color that looked exceptionally good on him, even though he was wearing hand-me-down pajama pants and shirts. And the shirt showed off his lithe and well defined form quite nicely.

Thranduil merely stood in the doorway, utterly still and perfectly postured as his mesmerising blue eyes swept over the interior. Then his eyes flickered to hers, and Charlotte felt her breath catch and her heart speed up. How could he unnerve her with one simple glance, and he hadn’t even uttered a word yet. _No, Charlotte! The pretty elven King is waaay out of your league. Don’t even think about it!_ She mentally scolded herself and nervously shifted her gaze away.

“It is good enough, Charlotte. Surprisingly better than the bathroom,” he said, his rich and deep voice gliding over her skin.

Charlotte glanced up and noted, with surprise, the teasing smile that now adorned his luminous face.

“Um…yeah. Sorry about that,” she murmured, resisting the urge to squirm.

Thranduil lifted an elegant hand and waved away her apology dismissively as he stepped further into the room. “Do not trouble yourself, little one. I found it all rather amusing.”

“Glad you find me hilarious,” she replied snarkliy, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling slighted by his words, and especially by the fact that he found her humiliation entertaining.

Thranduil merely smirked, as though sensing her ire, and came to stand by the bed, far too close to Charlotte for comfort. He gazed down at the quilt, though his face was like a stony mask and Charlotte couldn’t decipher what he was thinking. So, like any normal human, she started rambling in situations like this.

“I’ll bring in another comforter for your bed. The quilt is more for decoration than anything else. And you’ll need something warmer, as the heating system in this house is old and it gets pretty cold here, especially at night.”

Thranduil abruptly turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back, and Charlotte instantly snapped her mouth shut.

“Your reactions around me are most peculiar,” he stated.

“Um, cultural differences,’ she offered lamely.

He cocked his head to the side, studying her. The way he never even blinked unnerved her tremendously.

“Right. I’ll go get that blanket and let you get some sleep,” Charlotte said abruptly. She really didn’t want to stand there a moment longer and be scrutinised by Thranduil himself.

Charlotte made her way to the hallway closet and pulled out a thick cream colored down comforter, the feathers within pliant beneath her hands. She resisted the urge to snuggle in the softness of it, and hastily made her way back to the room, where she found Thranduil now inspecting the contents of the drawers.

“I’ll go out tomorrow to get you some more clothes,” she said to his back as she started stripping the quilt off the bed and replacing it with the comforter.

“Yes,” he mused as he turned his attention to her, watching her with a critical eye as she made the bed. “I was wondering where you procured these…clothes.” It was obvious from his tone that he didn’t consider what he was wearing as suitable attire. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Charlotte had been expecting more resistance from the King, but he was surprisingly more accepting of all of this, clothes included.

“They belonged to someone who used to stay here. It’s not important,” she said, her tone clearly indicating that she did not want to talk about it.

The bed now made, Charlotte turned to head for the door.

“Thank you,” came the soft voice of gratitude.

Charlotte stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Thranduil hadn’t moved from his spot and was statue-like in posture. But those electric blue eyes shimmered with their thanks, swirling in warmth that she had not imagine could emanate from him.

Charlotte gave a soft smile in return. “You’re welcome, Thranduil.” She turned once more to leave, and paused. “Sleep well.” With that parting remark she scurried out the room.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte lay in bed as she stared at the ceiling shrouded in shadows of night, frustration welling up inside of her as sleep became elusive. All she could think about was how ridiculous all of this was. _What the hell was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to help him?_ She knew she was inept and certainly not qualified for a situation like this. She just hoped that Thranduil had some ideas on how to fix this, because she certainly didn’t have any.

Sighing in defeat, Charlotte flung the covers back and slipped on her fluffy pale pink slippers. She really didn’t want to be padding through the chilly house with nothing on her feet.

Charlotte made her way down the stairs to get a glass of water from the kitchen. She cut through the living room to make her way there, and paused when she noticed Thranduil standing by the window, staring out at the inky night. The floral pale pink curtains framed his form, which was but a black shadow in the absence of light.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked softly.

“No,” he said simply, unmoving, and he continued to stare out into the murky darkness.

“Is…there anything I can do, Thranduil?” She hated the fact that she was blundering through all this, and had been less than a hospitable host. She felt absolutely useless.

“I doubt there is much you can do, Charlotte, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same.”

Charlotte nodded, understanding that Thranduil wanted to be left alone, padded to the water cooler. After downing her cold glass of water, she made her way back to bed, noting that the Eleven King had not left his spot. And she briefly wondered if he would stand there for the rest of the night? The King of the Woodland Realm was staying true to his nature and dealing with this situation with a cool and collected head, something he would indeed have to possess to rule a kingdom. But Charlotte had to wonder when his breaking point would come, for surely it would.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte groggily clambered out of bed, sleep still calling to her like a wistful lover, begging her to return to bed. But there was too much to do today and she still had to take care of the elf King. Charlotte rubbed the sleep from her eyes and let out a loud yawn as she stretched.

After using the toilet and washing her hands, Charlotte made her way to the kitchen, still feeling drugged from her restless night and lack of sleep. Trudging to the kitchen, she was momentarily surprised to see Thranduil sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of tea clasped between his slender and long fingered hands.

“You managed to make yourself a cup of tea?” she enquired, his voice still thick from tiredness.

“I became bored last night and decided to figure some things out on my own. Though tea is not such a difficult thing to make.”

“But you actually managed to work the kettle?” Charlotte’s senses were coming back to life, and she couldn’t help but marvel at this little revelation.

“It’s not too hard, Charlotte. You simply push the button and wait for the water to boil. Very simple and convenient. Quite useful, too, I can imagine.” An actual grin bloomed on his face, and Charlotte could tell that he was feeling quite proud at having figured out this piece of technology.

Charlotte smiled back and went to refill the kettle with water and switched it on. “I think you’re starting to warm up to the modern world and all the conveniences it has to offer.”

“Hardly,” he huffed. “It’s far too…unnatural.”

Charlotte felt pity well up inside of her. He hid it well, but how lost must Thranduil actually be feeling, surrounded by all this technology and not with the familiar comforts he was used to?

“Well, let me enjoy my cup of tea and wake up and then I’ll make us some breakfast. And then we can go outside and check things out.”

Thranduil gave a nod and raised his cup to his lips to take a sip of the hot liquid. Charlotte made her cup of tea and came to sit next to him, letting the infusion rouse her sluggish mind.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Thranduil glanced sideways at her. “ _What_ are you wearing?”

Charlotte blinked stupidly and glanced down at her thick fluffy pajama set that was pale pink and adorned with caricatures of bunnies. Not the prettiest, but it was warm.

“Pajamas,” she said, a bit defensively, as she took another sip from her mug.

Thranduil puzzled a moment. He knew that pajamas were clothes worn to bed, and vastly different from what he was used to, but did these humans have to make them look like… _that?_

“Okay. Spit it out,” Charlotte grouched.

“Pardon?” Thranduil asked in confusion. What did she want him to spit out? That would be absolutely uncouth and disrespectful.

“I mean, just tell me what you’re thinking,” she explained with a sigh.

“Ah,” he replied in understanding and laid his mug on the table. He shifted in his seat to better look at her. If this little human wanted him to be blunt, then he would do so. “I just never imagined nightwear to look so childish. And inelegant.”

Charlotte was tempted to scowl darkly at him, but decided to give him a fake smile instead, which left Thranduil feeling even more perplexed.

“It’s not for elegance. It’s for comfort.”

“It’s hideous,” he said flatly.

Charlotte shrugged. “Maybe, but I like it.”

Thranduil paused. Charlotte really was odd, maybe not to her kind, but certainly to him. “Please tell me that the rest of your people do not dress so garishly?”

Her grin widened and her hazel eyes sparkled as she thought about the questionable fashion choices of her people. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Thranduil’s brows raised exceptionally high and Charlotte giggled at the sight. He decided to ignore her and finish his tea. Charlotte was fine with that, but she felt her eyes being drawn to him and she took in the clothes he was wearing. She now had a general idea of what size he was: taller than Eric and narrower at the waist. The shirts would also have to be slightly bigger. Thranduil was subtly defined, his body lean and disguising the strength that thrummed through his muscles. He reminded Charlotte of a cat of prey: lithe and languid, but underneath all of that there was a coiled power ready to spring into action.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” Thranduil questioned without glancing her way.

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking,” she replied and Thranduil turned his head to look at her, a brow raised and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Charlotte shook her head. “I was just sizing you up, trying to figure out what size clothing I should get you.”

“You plan on procuring me more clothing?”

Charlotte nodded. “Yeah, you’re going to need them.”

“And can I trust that you will not buy me outfits that are hideously designed as your own?” Thranduil’s face was neutral, but Charlotte glimpsed the teasing light dancing in his eyes.

She decided to play along. “You can trust, but do not hope.”

Thranduil actually let out an amused chortle and Charlotte couldn’t help but smile along with him. She was pleasantly surprised that this formidable elf actually possessed a sense of humor. It was startling, yet comforting, to learn this about him.

Charlotte made them breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast, making sure to pile his plate with extras. He seemed to be more enthusiastic about eating this morning, and she made a mental note to ask him later of the foods that he was familiar with. Hopefully she would be able to replicate some of the dishes he liked.

Afterwards, she went to her room to get changed and chose neutral colors, though part of her wanted to choose bright colors just to tick Thranduil off a bit. Instead, Charlotte chose black jeans and a white long sleeved cashmere top. She applied a thin dusting of make-up and ran a brush through her thick waves. Charlotte studied herself critically in the mirror and fingered a strand of her hair, twirling it around her finger. Her hair used to be longer, touching past her shoulder blades, but in a moment of madness she had decided to cut it shorter. Charlotte didn’t exactly regret doing it, as the style suited her, but she admitted to herself that she did miss her longer hair.

Charlotte made her way to the closet by the front door to search for a coat that would be big enough for Thranduil, but was disappointed to find that it was only her coats residing in the dark space. Eric hadn’t been thoughtful enough to leave behind any jackets.

She snatched her winter jacket off the hanger and headed back to the living room, where she found Thranduil. She raised another brow in surprise, for he was actually channel surfing, his finger pressing the button the change what was on the television as he settled into the comfy armchair.

“My, you were busy last night,” she mused. _How had he learned to operate the television?_ Her own mother couldn’t even operate the blasted thing.

“Yes, and I learned a few things that I really wish I could erase from my mind,” he muttered.

Charlotte could only imagine what channels Thranduil had discovered and decided she really didn’t want to know or go into details.

“I don’t have a coat for you. I’ll have to buy you one when I go out later.”

Thranduil stood and went over to his armor that was placed in a neat pile by the side of the armchair and detached his black cloak with red lining from the shoulder pads. Throwing the cloak around his shoulders with a flourish, he clasped it under his neck and went to collect his armored boots. Thranduil motioned for her to go ahead of him and as Charlotte strode to the front door, she shrugged on her jacket and slipped on her boots that were waiting by the door.

They slipped outside and Charlotte gasped at the sudden blast of cold. Thranduil stood tall and resolute as though the cold barely affected him, his cloak flapping in the arctic wind and his long silver hair trailing like a banner around his face.

“You appeared round about here, the same spot where I thought I saw the shimmer,’ Charlotte said as she led him to the area that seemed completely normal.

Thranduil said nothing as he circled slowly around the spot, his thick dark brows furrowed as he concentrated. Then he stopped and extended his arm, trailing his hand back and forth slowly before him. Charlotte watched silently, not wanting to break his concentration, and she had to resist jumping on the spot in an effort to keep warm. The air was freezing cold and biting, a type of cold that would linger and take a few hours to fade from a chilled body.

Finally Thranduil lowered his hand and stood there in silent contemplation.

Charlotte tucked her hands under her armpits in a feeble effort to stave off the cold that was numbing her fingers.

“Did you find out anything?” she asked.

Thranduil slowly lifted his gaze to her, his expression neither grim nor hopeful. “There is residual energy here. Energy that is vaguely familiar.”

“Does that mean you have an idea of what happened?”

“Yes.’ Thranduil paused before continuing, “I suspect that it was…Lady Galadriel.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Galadriel?_ Charlotte thought. _The Golden Goddess and perfect specimen of a lady elf? But why would she send Thranduil here to Earth of all places? And did Thranduil land on Charlotte’s lawn by chance, or was it all preordained?_

Silence stretched heavily as Charlotte and Thranduil became deeply lost in their thoughts at this startling revelation.

“Wh…why would Galadriel send you here, Thranduil?” Charlotte stuttered as violent shivers started coursing through her body, and she was sure her lips were turning blue. Her fingers were currently throbbing painfully from the icy chill that was gnawing away at her digits, even ensconced under her armpits. _Why had she not thought to wear gloves?_ Probably because looks were deceiving, and with there only being a light dusting of snow on the ground it hadn’t seemed too cold outside. But the wind chill had certainly amped up the cold factor dramatically, and Charlotte cursed herself for not having the foresight to dress a bit more appropriately.

Thranduil’s head snapped up at her words and he frowned slightly when he noted the little human shivering and turning an alarming shade of blue as she stood rooted to the spot. Charlotte must be freezing, yet she stubbornly refused to budge and leave him alone. Thranduil didn’t know whether to admire this trait or think her foolish. Charlotte really was an oddity to him.

Thranduil strode forwards with long strides and took her by the elbow, gently coaxing Charlotte back into the warmth of the house. As they entered, Thranduil noted that the interior certainly was drafty, but at least it offered protection from the outside elements.

Charlotte immediately made a beeline for the living room, and after shucking off his boots, Thranduil followed suit. He found her hunched over the space heat frantically rubbing her chilled hands together in attempt to warm them up.

Thranduil stood there for a moment, simply gazing at this fragile human. Yes, humans were fragile in his mind. They were so quick to wither and die as age claimed them, and they easily succumbed to sickness and ailments. They didn’t bounce back from injuries as quickly as his own kind did and they weren’t as impervious to the outer elements.

Thranduil didn’t dwell too much on the lives of humans, the main reason being was that their lives were over in a blink of an eye for him. Some of them he remembered with fondness, and others he could barely recall. And some he could barely muster up the energy to care.

But as he stared at Charlotte, Thranduil knew in his heart that he would remember this one, even long after she was merely a pile of dust and bones in the ground. Even though Charlotte was inept, she really was trying to help him. She had no reason to, and yet she was. Thranduil couldn’t help but feel fondness for her.

Thranduil unclasped his cloak and strode towards her, draping it over her hunched shoulders with more care than was necessary. Charlotte blinked up at him in surprise and hesitantly stuttered her thanks. She instantly stilled when Thranduil took her icy hands in his own, and deep down he found that he disliked that she was still cautious of him. Or maybe it was physical contact that she was weary of. Either way, he wanted Charlotte to trust him.

His larger hands encased her own and he slowly raised them to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. He puzzled when he noted the deep blush that was now coloring her face and he realised that this must seem like an intimate act for her. _How peculiar…_

Charlotte’s eyes widened as Thranduil blew into his cupped hands in an effort to warm her own within. Then he rubbed her hands between his own and then blew his heated breath again, though he was careful to avoid eye contact now. He really didn’t want to give Charlotte the wrong impression. He was merely concerned about her wellbeing, that’s all.

Satisfied that her hands were back to normal temperature, Thranduil dropped his hands to his side and stepped back. Charlotte still stood frozen to the spot as she slowly lowered her arms, her face looking absolutely dumbstruck. _She really does look adorable when she’s flustered_ , Thranduil thought.

And because he loved getting a reaction out of her, and also because he was feeling a bit malicious, Thranduil asked, “Is there any other part of your body that needs warming?”

Her reaction was everything he had hoped for and Thranduil worked hard to keep his face straight, though inwardly he was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“Nope!” Charlotte instantly exclaimed, her face going even redder than before and she took a few hasty steps back from him. Thranduil marvelled at the blush that extended down her neck and even to the tips of her ears. _This human is too easy to get flustered,_ Thranduil mused to himself as he worked hard to keep his neutral mask in place.

“Good, because that was not something I was looking forward to!” he stated, finally grinning openly.

Charlotte scowled darkly at him. _The bloody ass! He was having far too much fun at her expense._

“If you’ve finished teasing me…” Thranduil’s grin widened and Charlotte rolled her eyes before deciding to sit down on the sofa, drawing his cloak tighter around her. It was heavier than it looked and was doing a fantastic job of keeping the heat in. And it smelled like Thranduil. Charlotte couldn’t put her finger on the scent, but if she had to try and describe it, it would be like the smell of the earth after a rain storm. It perfectly suited the haughty King.

Thranduil came to sit in the armchair, sinking comfortably into the cushions, and Charlotte realised that he seemed to have claimed it as his own. _How the mighty have fallen! From a throne to an armchair!_

“So why would Galadriel send you here?” Charlotte asked.

The humor left Thranduil’s face as he pondered over about her question, his index finger tapping absently against his lips as he mulled it over in his head.

“I don’t know the reasoning behind such an action,” he finally admitted. “But the fact that she left behind her residual signature leaves me to believe that she did it with good intentions.”

“How do you figure that?”

Thranduil met her gaze. “Galadriel could have easily have left me here and have wiped away all traces that it had been her who had done this to me. The fact that she didn’t lets me know that it was her alone and not some other sinister force.”

“It still doesn’t make it any easier for you, though,” Charlotte pointed out.

“True, but I am more at ease knowing that I am not in any imminent danger.”

Charlotte barked out an incredulous and humorless laugh, causing Thranduil to give her a puzzled look. Charlotte shook her head sadly and decided to explain as she leaned forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “Thranduil, you are far from safe. Especially here. Galadriel couldn’t have landed you in a worse place.

Thranduil stiffened and narrowed his sharp eyes at her words. “Explain,” he demanded, his voice going suspicious and cold.

Charlotte swallowed hard, not liking that look directed at her. _Did he honestly think she was referring to herself?_ “The humans here on Earth are quite suspicious and prone to xenophobia, Thranduil. If word ever got out that you, a real elf, were here…you would be taken away by the government and probably be experimented on. Amongst other things.” Charlotte didn’t want to voice it, but Thranduil would probably be probed and tortured and then dissected. He would suffer cruelly all because of what he was.

Thranduil’s frown deepened, but the cold look vanished. “Government? They are the ones that rule your country, right?”

“You could say that.”

“And you actually allow people like that to govern you?”

Charlotte sighed and rubbed at her forehead. _How could she explain it to him when she barely understood it herself?_ “It’s complicated. But you might be considered a threat, or an anomaly, and they’ll definitely want to get their hands on you if they ever found out.”

Thranduil remained silent, his gaze lowered to a spot on the floor. “So I am essentially a prisoner here?” he murmured.

Charlotte felt pity well up inside of her and she scooted to the other side of the sofa and laid her hand tentatively on his own. Thranduil barely even registered her touch. “I’m so sorry, Thranduil, but it would be too perilous to take you anywhere. We just can’t risk you being seen.”

Thranduil turned his attention to her, and Charlotte marvelled that there was no self-pity or desolation anywhere to be seen on his face. He was compartmentalising and staying focused.

“Are there any neighbors around?” he asked.

Charlotte shook her head. “Not nearby. The closest one is about five miles away.”

“So this gives me a five mile radius of freedom.” He sounded hollowly dejected at this thought.

Charlotte grimaced. Thranduil must be used to wandering and exploring all of Mirkwood. He was definitely not used to being confined, especially to such a small area.

“You can come and go whenever you please, Thranduil. I don’t want you to think that you have to remain housebound. I’m…just sorry that I cannot offer you more.”

Thranduil sighed and turned his hand over, now clasping her own. “I appreciate it, little one,” he said softly, his thumb grazing over the back of her hand. As Charlotte stared at him, she had to wonder if he was saying this for her benefit or for his own.

 

ooOoo

 

As Charlotte drove to town, her thoughts were heavily concentrated on the Elven King. They were getting over the initial shock of his arrival, but now they had to face the reality of the situation: he was not safe here. He was confined to her house as it was too risky to take him in to the city. Even if they could somehow disguise him, Thranduil stood out like a sore thumb. His appearance alone played a big part, especially his eyes and hair, but there was also the way he held himself that marked him as different. There was a certain otherworldly poise and grace and energy that emanated from him. The way he could stand so erect and still and barely blink was unnerving enough. He would draw attention to himself wherever he went.

Charlotte sighed. She didn’t know what to do.

The morning bustle of city life surrounded her and Charlotte soon found herself in the same mindset that always overcame her when she came here – irritated and annoyed. She disliked being in the city, but was forced to come here every day for work. If it weren’t for that fact, she would avoid it altogether. This was but one of the factors as to why she had chosen to live in her parents’ house after they died instead of keeping her apartment in the city. Eric had not appreciated that move…

Charlotte pulled into the crammed parking lot of the mall and managed to find a spot amongst all the sardine packed vehicles. With it being a Saturday, this amount of cluster was to be expected. It didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

Charlotte clenched her jaw and steeled herself. There was no choice but to enter to place of doom in order to acquire some clothes for Thranduil. _You can do it, Charlotte! Do it for the pretty elf…_

Two hours later Charlotte was ready to curse her species to Hell and back. _What was it about malls that bought out the worst in people? Herself included._

Charlotte had gone back twice to offload her purchases in her car, and now she was making a final stop at a popular department store. Her shopping cart was now mostly full with all the essential clothing and toiletries that she thought Thranduil would need. She had made a list before she had left the house she had even measured his boots to get an approximate size. Now there was only one more thing on that list: pajamas.

For the first time since she had entered this blasted place, Charlotte felt a smile tug at her lips. She planned to get him to most garish pajamas she could possibly find as payback for him insulting her choice of sleepwear. Petty, but it made her feel satisfyingly good inside.

Her eyes landed on one in particular and Charlotte knew she had found the perfect one. She selected the right size and chuckling darkly to herself, she threw them on top of the growing pile. _That would teach him!_

Preparing to go to the checkout, Charlotte froze when her attention landed on Vanessa, who was glancing back and forth between the cart and Charlotte with open curiosity. _No, no, no! Please just pretend you never saw me and walk away, Vanessa!_ Charlotte silently willed.

Vanessa raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow and sauntered over to Charlotte in her high-heeled black leather boots. Vanessa was the vision of a well-groomed, from her perfectly styled honey blonde hair to her baby blue eyes framed by dark lashes set in her flawless and immaculately made up face. Her nails were manicured and painted cotton candy pink, whereas Charlottes’ were bitten to the quick. Even Vanessa’s clothes oozed expensive style, from her tailored slacks to her fur lined coat. Charlotte felt like a street corner bum compared to Vanessa.

“Charlotte, dear. How have you been? It has been far too long,” Vanessa purred, her voice husky, yet alluring.

“Yeah, it has been,” Charlotte said nervously, giving a fake little smile and tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear.

Vanessa’s eyes flickered to the cart that was obviously filled with men’s clothing. A sly smile spread over her red lips and she asked, “You’ve already found a new man, Charlotte? Tsk. Tsk.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. She had only tolerated Vanessa before because she was Eric’s cousin, but truthfully Charlotte could not stand her. And she knew that news of her ‘mysterious man’ would soon be spread through all the inner circles of friends and acquaintances like a raging wildfire.

“Maybe…but in case you forgot, Eric replaced me far sooner. So I really don’t think any of you have a right to judge.”

Charlotte pushed past the annoying Barbie and made her way to the checkout, inwardly seething. _What right did Vanessa have to judge, especially when she knew what Eric did?_ Charlotte took a deep breath, knowing it was no use getting worked up over it. It was all in the past, and best left there. Eric was no longer important, and as Charlotte placed all the clothing on the counter, she knew she had more important things to worry about. Namely Thranduil.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte parked in the garage, which was attached to the kitchen, and a door to the side connected the two rooms. Charlotte exited her silver Honda SUV and went to unlock the door that led to the kitchen. She poked her head inside, noting that it was quiet and she wondered if Thranduil had gone out exploring. She couldn’t blame him much for wanting to get out and clear his head.

She unloaded all the numerous bags and set about unpacking the groceries and placing Thranduil’s items on his bed. The back door opened and Thranduil trudged in, along with an icy blast of wind, and closed the door firmly behind him. He glanced up and gave a pleased smile to see that Charlotte was home again.

“Did you have a good walk?”

Unclasping his cloak and hanging it on the coat rack, Thranduil turned his full attention to her. “It was quite different than what I’m used to.”

Charlotte leaned against the counter, her hands gripping the edge. “Well, there’s certainly no giant spiders here, for one.”

Thranduil raised a brow. “I keep forgetting that you know more about my world than what I would have guessed.”

“Not really. You could say that I just know the basics from what I remember reading and from watching the movies.”

“Movies? There are movies about my world.”

“Yeah. I think I have them somewhere in my movie stash. Maybe we can watch them later on?” Charlotte offered.

Thranduil gave a nod, though his mind seemed to be processing this fact.

“I got us some pizza for lunch!” Charlotte declared, motioning to the box that lay on the counter in an attempt to try and distract him.

Thranduil took a cautionary step forward and eyed the box with undisguised trepidation. “Is it better than your spaghetti?”

Charlotte shot him a mean look and smacked him on his upper arm. The damn elf barely even flinched! “Careful! I’ll force feed you my meat loaf next time.”

Thranduil shuddered. He hoped it didn’t taste as bad as it sounded.

“But first, I want you to take a look at some of the stuff I got you. They’re on your bed. Oh! Be sure to open the bag on your pillow first,” Charlotte said mischievously as she went to fill up the kettle to make a cup of tea.

Thranduil eyed her with suspicion, but silently left to peruse the items.

A few moments later, Thranduil strode into the kitchen. “ _What_ is this supposed to be?”

Charlotte turned to face him and a wicked grin spread on her face when she spotted the one piece pajama clutched in his hands.

“Pajamas,” she replied innocently.

Thranduil scowled and then pointed to the picture on the fleecy material. “And _what_ is that supposed to be?”

Charlotte tried to keep a straight face, but was failing miserably. “An elf!” she blurted out and crumpled into peals of laughter at the incredulous, and insulted, look that passed over his features. The pajamas in question were bright green and a picture of an elf’s face was plastered on the front. The ears were exaggeratedly long and pointed and the elf had rosy cheeks and small squinty eyes and a gap between his front teeth as he grinned.

“Is that honestly how elves are portrayed in your world?” Thranduil growled in disgust.

Charlotte burst into another fit of laughter and clutched at her side. She was laughing so hard it hurt. Thranduil merely glowered down at her, impatiently waiting for her to finish. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she straightened and replied. “Sometimes.”

Thranduil curled his lips in displeasure, his blue eyes flashing dangerously, but this only caused Charlotte to descend back into laughter. She didn’t falter when the pajamas were flung at her head.

_Payback’s a bitch!_ She thought gleefully as she clutched the offending pajama to her chest and feeling thoroughly satisfied. Was it vindictive of her knowing that she had only bought him one pair so that he had no choice but to wear that one? Yes, but it was definitely worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

Charlotte made her way upstairs to Thranduil’s room, the offending pajamas still clutched in her hand. She stood awkwardly outside the closed door and deliberated whether it would be a good idea to knock. Thranduil might still be peeved about her little joke. It had definitely been worth it at the time, but now she was going to have to deal with the aftermath (and maybe his wrath), and it was something she found she was not looking forward to. Charlotte speculated whether she was going to face the volatile and conceited King, or the spirited and teasing elf?

Charlotte sighed, knowing she was going to have to face the music, and tentatively knocked on the wooden door. “Thranduil? Do you want to come out and have some lunch?” There was no answer to her query, so she continued. “Are you still mad about the pajamas?”

One, two, then three seconds stretched out and Charlotte was about to leave when the door opened wide. Charlotte froze, her jaw dropping at the sight before her.

Thranduil was dressed in a black button down dress shirt with silver buttons, the top two buttons left undone and revealing a glimpse of a pearly white hairless chest. Her eyes slowly travelled down and Charlotte noted that he was wearing faded blue jeans that fit perfectly in all the right places. Thranduil was currently barefoot, but Charlotte barely took note of this in her daze; it was like her brain could not fully comprehend what she was seeing. Charlotte didn’t think that Thranduil could look any more gorgeous, especially in modern clothing, but she was certainly being proven wrong at this very moment.

A smug look crept on his luminous features at her stunned reaction, and he lifted his hand, pressing his fingers under her jaw and forcing her to close her gaping mouth. All Charlotte could do was blink wordlessly at him in her stupor.

“I take it from your reaction that this outfit suits me quite well.” His electric blue eyes twinkled in delight and his smile slowly stretched to reveal perfect white teeth.

Charlotte let out a croak, common speech having suddenly fled her. She was standing before him gawping like a fish out of water. “Just…just give me a moment. I think my brain went on the fritz.”

The smug look returned as he stared down at her, and Charlotte suddenly realised how close he actually was. She thrust the pajamas towards him. “Here’s you pajamas.”

A scheming look crossed his features before he shoved the pajamas back at her. “You can keep it.”

Charlotte frowned. “But you need pajamas for bed,” she argued as she tried in vain to return them, but Thranduil stubbornly refused to accept them.

Thranduil lowered his head and Charlotte gulped, her throat suddenly dry when she felt his hot breath flutter over her face. “I’ll simply sleep in the nude.”

For the second time in a matter of seconds, Charlotte’s jaw dropped in her absolute shock at such a declaration. Her eyes widened and she felt the heated blush wash over her skin. _No, Charlotte! Get that thought right out of your filthy mind this instant! We are not going there!_

Her eyes flickered to his face and noted that Thranduil was grinning mischievously as he straightened and stepped back, his hands clasped behind his ramrod straight back.

“Careful, Charlotte,” he warned, his voice dropping an octave and causing her to shiver. “Don’t play a game you have no hope of winning.” With that parting remark he strode past a flustered Charlotte.

As she stared at his retreating form, too flummoxed to even appreciate the way his jeans clung to him, she murmured, “It would help if I knew what game we were playing.”

She threw the pajamas on the bed in a last ditch attempt to get him to wear it, and followed after the Elven King.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte set the pizza box on the coffee table and grabbed a cheesy slice before plonking herself down on the sofa. She had managed to find the Hobbit trilogy, the first of the series currently in the DVD player and waiting to be played.

Thranduil leaned forward in his armchair, his silver hair falling around his face like a gossamer curtain, and picked up a slice before sniffing it with suspicion. His eyes flickered with uncertainty at Charlotte, who was happily biting into the triangular mess. He curled his lips back in distaste - not at the food itself, but rather at the way he was being forced to eat it _. Did humans have no culture and choose to eat with their hands like animals?_

“For God’s sake, just take a bite!” Charlotte snapped in exasperation. “If you go through life looking at everything with such distaste, you’re going to miss out on a lot of enjoyable things.”

Thranduil raised a supercilious brow in her direction. “And you think that I’ll enjoy _this_?”

“You won’t know until you try it,” she pointed out before taking another bite of her pizza, the cheese stretching like elastic strings and causing Thranduil to grimace at the sight. _Such manners!_

Thranduil gave a resigned sigh. “If I must.” He bit into the slice of pizza and chewed thoughtfully, his palate exploding with the different texture and taste. He glanced around for a napkin, and realised with mounting horror that he was going to have to lick his fingers clean!

“So? What do you think? And if you say ‘edible’, I’m going to kick you in the shins.”

“Edible,” he replied back drily.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him and the playfulness returned to his face once more at her ire. _He would just love to see her try and kick him! He would have her pinned to the floor quicker than she could ever react…_

Charlotte rolled her eyes, knowing that he had fully called her bluff, and she picked up the remote to play the movie.

Thranduil settled in the armchair and watched with rapt attention as the tale of Bilbo Baggins flashed before his eyes. The movie eventually came to an end and Charlotte stood to put in the next disc.

“So, was the movie fairly accurate,” she asked with her back turned to him.

“More or less,” Thranduil replied vaguely as he eyed the pizza box and was slightly disappointed to note that it was empty. By his calculations, Charlotte had only eaten two slices. _So that meant that he had eaten the rest. Either he had been ravenous, or it was better than he cared to admit._

Thranduil’s attention turned back to Charlotte. Her movements were graceless, yet he found he could not help but study her with open curiosity. Charlotte lacked finesse, but he had to admit that he found that all her little quirks were somewhat endearing. And her ability to blush at every given moment was just too much for him to pass up the opportunity to cause it. He rather enjoyed seeing her skin flame with her embarrassment.

Thranduil blinked. He really should stop toying with this human. She would only grow to despise him if he carried on, and he really did want to keep on her good side. His thoughts drifted to the pajamas and he felt the corners of his lips twitch up. It seemed that his companion was also rather fond at poking fun at him just as he was prone to do with her.

“So this is the next movie. This one gets to the part about you and Legolas.”

Thranduil’s attention snapped back to the present and his face became serious at the mention of his beloved son. “Legolas? What is my son doing in these movies?”

Charlotte looked uncomfortable at the shift in his mood. “Um, he’s a fundamental character, especially in the Lord of the Rings series.”

Thranduil’s dark brows drew down in consternation. “What?”

Charlotte started fidgeting. “Legolas joins the Fellowship in their quest to destroy the Ring.”

Thranduil’s brows shot up as understanding hit him like a massive blow from a mountain troll. _Charlotte was talking about the Ring. The One Ring to rule them all…_

Charlotte realised her blunder and she visibly paled. “Shit! That hasn’t happened yet.” Charlotte snatched up the remote and paused the movie that was just starting. “Maybe it’s not a good idea showing you these. Having too much knowledge of future events could be catastrophic and all. It could cause a paradox! At least that’s the theory in Doctor Who anyway.”

“What?” Thranduil asked. _By the Valor, Charlotte was making absolutely no sense whatsoever, and that was saying something!_ Thranduil shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”

Charlotte stood in front of the television fidgeting nervously in her discomfort.

“Play the movie, Charlotte. I don’t think there’s any harm in me knowing what is going to transpire.”

Charlotte didn’t seem to assured by his words. “But if you know what’s going to happen and you try to change things when you get back…”

Thranduil stood and came to stand before the wide-eyed female, his full height towering over her more diminutive stature. _She really is a tiny little thing,_ Thranduil mused as he clasped Charlotte on her slim shoulders. Charlotte visibly flinched and Thranduil inwardly cringed that she still was not fully at ease around him.

“Charlotte, I am old enough and wise enough to know when to interfere and when not to interfere. Trust me on this. I am as cautious as they come.”

Charlotte puzzled at his words and she blurted out, “How old are you, Thranduil?”

Thranduil dropped his hands to his sides and lifted his gaze to stare at the ceiling as he thought about the question. Elves did not reckon time and age the same way that humans tended to, and he really had to think about it.

“That old, huh?” Charlotte supplied when he had taken a bit too long to answer her question.”

“If my calculations are correct, my age would be close to seven thousand,” he replied, returning his attention to her.

He could see the shock seep in her hazel eyes as they widened spectacularly at this information. Charlotte blinked and sat down heavily on the sofa as she mulled over his response.

“How old are you, Charlotte?” Thranduil enquired as he, too, seated himself in _his_ armchair. If she were going to ask personal information, then he felt justified in firing them right back at her.

“Twenty-eight.”

Thranduil kept his face a neutral mask, but Charlotte must have glimpsed something in his eyes, because she asked, “What?”

“You really are but a child.”

Charlotte shook her head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Compared to you, yeah. You’re ancient!”

“Seven thousand is not that old for elves.”

“If you say so, Grandpa.”

Thranduil scowled darkly at her.

“So how old is Legolas then?”

“About two thousand years old.”

Charlotte gave a low whistle. “Wow. In my teen years I was crushing over a two thousand year old elf. Talk about an inappropriate age difference.”

Thranduil’s head snapped up at her remark. _Was she implying…? No! Not possible!_

“And how could you do such a thing when you have never met my son?”

Charlotte gave an amused shake of her head. “Not at him, but rather his character in the movie. You look remarkably like Lee Pace’s portrayal of, well, you. It’s a safe bet that Legolas looks like his movie counterpart as well.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Thranduil remarked drily.

Charlotte gave him an imperceptible look at his swift change of mood, but lifted the remote and played the movie without another remark. Thranduil sat silent and unmoving for the whole two hours. Inwardly, he was seething. _Is that really how they chose to portray him? Is that what Charlotte really thought of him? It certainly explained her nervousness around him._

The movie ended and Charlotte went to replace it with the third and final DVD. She turned at looked at him expectantly. Thranduil was resting his cheek against his palm, a not very impressed look on his face.

Finally he remarked, “Is that how you view me, Charlotte? As some arrogant and cold hearted, gem-greedy King?”

Charlotte gaze softened. Then she came to sit at the end of the sofa and took his hand in her own. “No, that’s not the way I view you, Thranduil. You, just like everyone else, have many aspects and ranges to your personality. I have glimpsed the arrogance, yes, but I have also seen a playful, teasing and considerate side. I think there is more to you than meets the eye.”

Thranduil blinked and glanced away, not wanting Charlotte to see the relief he found in her words.

“Are you okay?” she gently probed.

“Yes,” he replied. After a pause, he begrudgingly admitted, “And I will concede that the physical likeness is quite uncanny with regards to the characters.”

Charlotte grinned, and Thranduil wondered if she was thinking about his son, Legolas? Something churned inside of him, but Thranduil couldn’t put a name on this odd feeling.

“How about I make some popcorn and we watch the third installment?” Charlotte asked, standing up and stretching. Her shirt rode up to reveal a slit of her pale belly and Thranduil hastily glanced away. _Humans and their lack of propriety!_

His gaze, instead, lingered on the pizza box and he secretly craved another. Charlotte caught the longing on his face and grinned down wickedly at him.

“Ha! I knew you liked the pizza!”

“Only because it’s fractionally better than your cooking,” he retorted.

Charlotte just shrugged off his insult. “Just wait until you try popcorn.”

Fifteen minutes later Thranduil found himself seated with a huge bowl of this puffy white stuff that she called popcorn. Halfway through the movie, Thranduil glanced down and realised with a start that his bowl was half empty. _This stuff was indeed good! Not that he would ever admit that to Charlotte…_

His eyes wandered to his human companion and noted that she was currently asleep, her head tilted back and resting against the couch. Her mouth was hanging slightly open and soft snores could be heard coming from her. Thranduil felt a warm smile tug at his lips and he placed his bowl on the coffee table before standing and heading to the kitchen to retrieve his cloak from the coat rack. He returned and draped it over the blissfully sleeping Charlotte and went back to his chair to finish the movie.

Many things about the movie didn’t settle well with him, and he pondered if Charlotte was right in the fact that having too much foresight about future events could cause major problems. But his curiosity was getting the better of him and he went to crouch by the T.V cabinet to search for the Lord of the Ring movies. As he pulled out the cases, his eyes lingered on the image of his son and he tentatively traced the outline of his face. _Will I ever see you again?_ His heart ached at the thought that he might not be reunited with Legolas ever again and be doomed to be stranded here for all eternity.

“What was the deal with Tauriel?”

His head snapped up, her sudden question having completely startled him. Charlotte stared back at him with enquiring eyes as she clutched his cloak to her body. Thranduil had a sense that she quite enjoyed snuggling in it.

Thranduil glanced back down at the case in his hands and thought about Charlotte’s question. “It wasn’t that I disliked Tauriel, or that I did not want her and Legolas to be together. But their feelings weren’t real. She did not truly love him, and Legolas was more enamored than anything else.” Thranduil paused. “When you experience a love so pure and true, it is indescribably beautiful and nothing else can compare…I witnessed none of that with Tauriel or my son.”

Charlotte stared at him. Thranduil didn’t have to voice it and neither did she: he was vaguely referring to the love he had shared with his wife. A wife who had been cruelly taken away from both him and Legolas.

“I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

Thranduil gave a nod. He knew full well as to what she was offering her condolences for, but he had neither the will nor the heart to dredge up such memories. So he simply stood and put on the next movie.

An hour later, Charlotte was curled on the sofa sound asleep, his cloak draped over her. Thranduil paused the movie and went to stand by the window, becoming deeply lost in his thoughts as he stared out at the pitch black night. Stars blinked feebly and clouds currently obscured the cold light of the moon.

Thranduil leaned his forehead against the cold glass and closed his eyes tightly as emotions welled up inside of him. He had to get back home. He didn’t know if his soul could survive being trapped in this world that was so foreign to him. The worst part was there was nothing he could do. He was not in control, and thus helpless, and this disturbed him. If he had no control over the situation, then he was as good as doomed.

His eyes snapped open when he felt slim arms encircle his middle and a soft cheek press against his back.

“We’ll find a way to get you back, Thranduil,” she murmured sleepily.

Thranduil was grateful that she could not see the glimmer of tears that welled up in his eyes, and he laid his hand on top her overlapped ones. Right now, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Charlotte was his anchor and he was going to have to place his trust in her hands.

“I hope you’re right, little one. I hope you’re right.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow. I just wanted to thank everyone for your amazing support of this story. All your lovely reviews have definitely been a confidence boost! So thank you so much! :D
> 
> So without further ado, here is the next installment. I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

Charlotte cracked open an eye, blearily trying to orient herself as she struggled to wake from her deep sleep. Her nose crinkled as a strand of hair tickled it, and she half-heartedly attempted to blow it away. It was no use, as the hair just fell back into her face, determined to be a nuisance.

Charlotte groaned in exasperation and rolled over on to her back, sweeping the offending tendril away. A beam of warm sunlight filtered through the gap of her lavender colored curtains, hinting at a clear and beautiful day, albeit a cold one.

Flinging back the matching lavender hued covers, Charlotte sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed away the sleep from her bleary eyes before stretching and letting out a wide yawn to accompany it. Tea was the first and foremost thing on her mind as she shuffled her way to the kitchen. She had expected to see Thranduil perched at the kitchen table, so she was disappointed to find the room empty, the lack of his presence leaving a gaping void.

She filled the kettle and turned it on before heading to the sink and peering out the window. The light dusting of snow sparkled like a carpet of jewels as the sunlight cast its brilliant light upon it. A crow could be seen in the distance, just on the outskirts of the woods, hopping on the ground as its beady black eyes scoured for something to eat.

Charlotte prepared her tea and plonked down heavily on the hard wooden chair, shifting as she tried to get comfortable. _Note to self: buy some cushions!_

“Something tells me you’re not a morning person,” Thranduil stated in his deep voice as he stood in the doorway of the living room, his sharp eyes taking in the bedraggled human.

“Shh. No talky until tea is finished,” she murmured, her eyes downcast and staring into the swirling milky tea. She could not bear to see the perfection that was utterly Thranduil right now. He could roll out of bed and immediately look ready for the runway, whereas Charlotte looked like she had been in the bushes fighting off a bear. And lost. Pathetically.

“Duly noted,” he said, his voice tinted with amusement. “Though I have never met someone as grouchy as you in the morning.”

“I’ll show you grouchy,” she muttered darkly under her breath, taking a sip of her hot tea.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Charlotte said, lifting her gaze to meet his and giving him an obviously fake, and far too sunny, smile.

“That’s what I thought,” the Elven King said, turning his back to her and preparing his own mug of tea. Charlotte swore he was silently laughing at her!

The sleep now clearing from her fuzzy mind, Charlotte could now appreciate the sight before her. Thranduil was dressed in dark blue jeans that conformed perfectly to his lithe body, and a simple dark grey cotton shirt that showed off his toned arms and well defined torso. His silver-white hair flowed like a waterfall made of the finest silk down his back and Charlotte had the urge to run her fingers through the fine strands. _It was just too much perfection for first thing in the morning,_ Charlotte thought with a stab of irritation.

Thranduil sat down next to her, his movement elegant and regal, and they drank their tea in comfortable silence.

“So…I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk today, and if you feel up to it, a drive after lunch,” Charlotte said, breaking the silence.

“Drive?” he asked, his dark brows drawing together in puzzlement.

“In my car,” Charlotte clarified. She had thought about it briefly last night. Walks in the woods wasn’t going to hold his attention for very long, and she reasoned that it would be safe enough to take him out in the car on the back country roads from time to time. Something to divert his attention and keep his mind off of his current dilemma.

“I’ll give it a try, though I have to ask if I can trust your ‘driving’ skills.”

Charlotte grinned an evil one. “Oh, I’m absolutely the worst.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you, Charlotte,” he stated drily.

“Careful, your shins are in perfect proximity for kicking,” she warned, draining the last of her tea.

Thranduil’s face split into a wide grin, showing hints of dimples. He leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “Try it, little one,” he dared, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Charlotte stood to take her cup to the sink. “Not a chance! You’ll whip my ass.”

“Whip your ass?”

“Figure of speech, Thranduil. It means that you’ll beat me,” she explained as she walked over to the sink.

“That I will.”

Charlotte turned to face him, worrying her bottom lip. Thranduil noted her hesitation as he drained his tea and placed the mug down on the table with a soft _thunk_. “Ask you question, Charlotte.”

“Would…would you teach me how to fight?”

Thranduil stared back at her with unblinking eyes, surprise clearly written on his flawlessly smooth face. He had not been expecting such a request, especially from her. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised her tiny form. Charlotte was small and petite and hardly had any strength or power in her. But part of him was curious to see what she was capable of.

“I think that can be arranged,” he said slowly.

Charlotte beamed at him, and Thranduil suddenly found himself desiring to put many more smiles like that on her face. Her smile ignited an inner light deep within her, transforming her features into something quite mesmerising. He stared back wordlessly, captivated.

“Oh, before I forget! Your swords are under the sofa.”

“Under the sofa? _What_ are my swords doing there?” he asked, his voice sharp as he straightened up. Those swords were treasured by him, and to be placed without a second thought under a sofa was just incomprehensible!

Charlotte fidgeted. “Um…”

A slow smile stretched on Thranduil’s face, making him look predatory, as he realised the cause of her nervousness. “You were afraid I was going to use them on you?”

“Um…”

“Charlotte, if I wanted you dead, I would not have to use my swords. You are fragile enough that my bare hands would suffice,” he stated, mirth shining on his luminous face.

“That does not make me feel better,” she muttered.

Thranduil stood and advanced towards her. He reached up and gently swept back her thick hair from her face, tucking the flyaway strands behind her ear. Charlotte stared up at him with widened hazel eyes framed by dark lashes. As he peered closely at her, Thranduil noted the light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks, so light that it wasn’t really noticeable. _Cute,_ he thought.

“I gave you my word that I would not harm you, but I cannot guarantee that you will not get hurt during our training, little one.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just use some creative curse words on you,” she replied cheekily, her eyes sparkling with that inner light that he found so fascinating.

Thranduil nodded in approval and stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back. “I look forward to it. I might even learn a word or two. Wouldn’t that be interesting?” he mused as he retreated to the living room to retrieve his beloved swords.

Charlotte shook her head. Curse words coming from those perfectly shaped lips of his was almost too much to think about.

 

ooOoo

 

They hiked through the woods, the birch trees standing tall and erect around them like sentinel soldiers. Their spindly trunks were ashen white, the color blending with crisp fallen snow at their feet; their branches bare of their usual covering of leaves. Thranduil took the lead, though Charlotte suspected that he did not have a general sense of where he was going, and was letting his feet him where they may.

Thranduil was wearing the insulated winter boots she had bought him, the fine black leather encasing his jean clad legs, along with the stylish black winter coat that reached mid-thigh. The fur lined hood was down and almost hidden by the virgin white of his hair. It looked so wrong for Thranduil to be wearing normal clothes and Charlotte secretly longed to see him again in his clothes from Middle Earth, cape and all. Through all her misgivings, though, Charlotte had to admit that Thranduil looked simply divine, regardless of what he wore.

Talking about clothes, Charlotte wondered if he had worn his pajamas last night or if he had indeed done what he had threatened to do…

“You’re awfully quiet back there, Charlotte. What occupies your thoughts?” Thranduil enquired, glancing over his shoulder at his companion who doggedly had her head down as she trudged behind him.

“Your pajamas,” Charlotte said, and mentally slapped herself for her lack of filter.

Thranduil grinned slyly. “You want to know if I wore them or not?”

“Nope,” she lied.

“You know, I can tell when you’re lying,” he stated conversationally.

“Really?” Charlotte asked, glancing up at him in surprise. She had not known this. Then she frowned. “What else can you do? Can you do magic?”

“Magic?” he scoffed. “No such thing, Charlotte.”

“Harry Potter would disagree with you.”

“What?” Thranduil asked, coming to a standstill and turning his attention back to her, his expression baffled.

Charlotte shook her head. “I’ll give you the books to read when we get back to the house.” Charlotte paused as she glanced around her, recognising the area in the woods. “If we head in this direction it will take us to the lake.”

Thranduil eyes lighted and he motioned with an elegant long-fingered hand. “Lead the way, little one.”

“Why do you call me that?” she queried as she stepped beside him, her hands thrust deep in her pockets. Her hair was currently ensconced under her white knitted hat, and a matching scarf was wound snugly around her neck.

“Because you are little,” he reasoned as they started to follow in the direction where she had pointed. Charlotte couldn’t argue with him on that one.

Soon they broke through the trees and came to stand on the edge of the rocky outcrop. The lake lay nestled down in the valley before them, a thin layer of ice having formed on the surface and giving it a mirror-like quality. More birch trees surrounded the lake in their spindly form, and stretched out as far as the eye could see. The picturesque scene still managed to take her breath away every time.

“I often coming up here, especially when I need an escape, and this spot offers solace,” she said, her eyes trained on the glassy surface of the frozen water.

“That it does. Though, I have to wonder what it is you seek to escape from.” Thranduil enquired as he sat down on the rocky ledge, drawing his knee up to his chest and the other stretched out before him.

Charlotte decided to remain standing, hugging herself for warmth. The ground looked far too cold to sit on. “Life in general. Memories, mostly.”

“And what memories are those?”

Charlotte glanced down at him. Thranduil was staring at her with his penetratingly fierce gaze, his crystalline blue eyes glimmering with their curiosity. She shook her head to break from his captivating spell and decided to change subject.

“So can you really hear the trees and plants? Or is that something that’s made up?”

Thranduil inclined his head to the side, puzzling over her question. “It is…difficult for me to explain, especially when I am not too sure what you mean.” He paused. “I can sense the lands, yes, but it almost a background melody.” Thranduil’s eyes narrowed at her and then he extended his hand. “Come here. Maybe I can show you.”

Charlotte hesitantly stepped forward and Thranduil shifted up. Her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened when she realised that he wanted her to sit between his legs.

“I won’t bite, Charlotte.”

“Not yet.”

He looked puzzled at her words. Charlotte took a deep breath and stepped over his leg, coming to sit in front of him. His long legs were slightly bent on either side of her and Charlotte settled against him stiffly, wondering what he was planning on doing. Thranduil straightened up and pressed his chest against her back, though she could barely feel it through the layer of winter outerwear.

His large hands drew up on either side of her and took her smaller ones in his own, loosely clasping them. Charlotte startled when she felt his lips brushing against her ear, causing an involuntary shiver.

“Close your eyes, Charlotte, and clear your mind,” he commanded, his voice low and his warm breath tingling against her ear lobe.

Her heart started racing as something stirred deep within her belly, causing her breath to hitch.

“Calm yourself, Charlotte.”

“I’m trying, but you’re making it difficult!”

“How exactly am I making it difficult?”

There was no teasing in his voice and Charlotte knew that he truly was perplexed by her statement. _Did elves even feel desire the same way humans did?_ She highly doubted it.

“Never mind,” she ground out and closed her eyes. Charlotte concentrated on slowing her breathing, trying to clear her mind and relax. Little by little, she started to ease back against his chest, letting his warmth bathe her in comfort.

A soft musical chant surrounded her senses and she realised that Thranduil was speaking something in his elvish language. _What was the name of it again? Oh yes! Sindarin._

The melodious sound pulled her under and she concentrated on the draw of his words. And then like a hazy fog being lifted from her mind, her ears picked up another sound that echoed all around, yet sounded so far away. It was akin to a wordless lullaby that was sung in soft dulcet tones, floating through the wind and being carried to the farthest plains. It was hauntingly beautiful, just as it was achingly enchanting.

Charlotte opened her eyes slowly, realising that this was the closest she would ever get to a spiritual moment.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She pulled her hand free from his and wiped away at her cheek, surprised when her fingertips came away damp. She glanced back at Thranduil, and he seemed to be looking at her in a different light than before.

“How…how did you manage to share that with me?”

Thranduil let out a breath he was holding and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer, and Charlotte let herself relax against him. He rested his chin on the top of her head as both stared out at the glistening lake.

“I enveloped you in my fëa, Charlotte, essentially sharing with you what I feel.”

“It was so…warm and safe,” she mused.

Thranduil remained silent at her spoken words, for she had echoed exactly what he had been thinking. Charlotte, for the instant that he had shared himself with her, had felt safe. A warm comforting balm to his battered soul. He was not certain how to feel about this revelation, even as he held his warm companion close, reluctant to release her and let go of this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Let me know if there are any stuff from our world that you would like Thranduil to experience. I would love to hear your feedback and maybe work some of your suggestions into this story.
> 
> Please review, fav and follow. :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story! You guys are simply the best!
> 
> Here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it.

“Will you please slow down!”

Charlotte glanced at Thranduil out of the corner of her eye. He was currently clutching the armrest of the passenger seat with an iron clad grip, his knuckles ghostly white from the strain. Charlotte was starting to get worried that Thranduil might snap the armrests right off. His jaw was clenched, making his defined bone structure stand out, and his body was as rigid as a plank as he stared straight ahead with the wide-eyed terror of someone facing imminent death.

“I’m going well below the speed limit, Thranduil,” she stated calmly, both hands gripping the steering wheel as they drove down the deserted road that stretched on for miles and miles. Charlotte had no destination in mind – she just wanted Thranduil to have the opportunity to get out and visually experience the world he had landed in. Though, all he was seeing right now was country side dusted in powdery snow.

“Then go slower,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Charlotte sighed in exasperation, but she eased her foot off the pedal. She glanced down at the dash and inwardly groaned: they were now only doing forty kilometers an hour! This was a snail’s pace. She chanced a glance at the elf, but could discern no sign of him relaxing.

“You’ve faced countless battles that have been really vicious and gruesome, yet a simple ride in a car puts you on edge.”

Thranduil’s head snapped in her direction, his ice blue eyes narrowing and his dark brows drawing together so that they almost formed a single line. “That was entirely different. I knew the danger I was facing and thus had a certain amount of control.”

The corner of Charlotte’s mouth twitched up into a wry smile. “Ah, you like being in control. It all makes sense now. You, Mister, are a control freak!”

She could feel his gaze boring into her and she resisted the urge to look his way. Or squirm.

“Yes, Charlotte. Control is important. If one does not have control over a situation, one cannot prepare for all possible scenarios and outcomes. Sometimes, control is the only difference between life and death.”

“Hmm…all I got out of that was that you think you’re going to die in my car?”

“With your driving skills, I estimate the probability to be very high.”

Charlotte resisted the urge to flip him the middle finger. Instead, she mentally counted to ten and let out a breath. “So what about your elk? I can imagine it’s quite hard controlling an animal like that.”

“My elk was obedient to a fault and I knew I could trust him to deliver me safely to my destination. How you can place such irrevocable trust in something as unnatural as… _this_ is beyond me,” he stated condescendingly.

“Hey! Don’t diss my car! It has passed numerous safety standards,” she retorted.

“It is only safe as the one who drives it. And you, dear Charlotte, are far from safe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, annoyance flaring at his words. “I’m an excellent driver.”

Thranduil pressed his lips together in a thin line and slowly turned his gaze back to the straight stretch of road ahead of them, letting his silence be the only answer to her question. His thoughts drifted to their earlier interaction at the lake. He was not one for familiarity, especially with humans. _So why had he let Charlotte in so easily? He had shared his f_ _ëa_ _with her, something he would never consider doing with anyone else. So why had he done so with her?_ Thranduil puzzled over this, and decided that he would need to maintain a respectable distance from this little human. If not, he was sure the outcome would not be very good…

Charlotte, sensing the shift in his demeanor, decided to turn on the radio to try and ease the uptight Elven King. Rock music blared through the speakers and Thranduil instantly covered his pointed ears with his elegant hands, his lips curled in obvious revulsion.

“Turn that retched noise off this instant!” he snarled.

“Okay, okay. Keep your panties on, you pointy-eared princess,” she grumbled as she flipped through the stations and finally landed on a classical music radio station. The melodious tones of the piano filtered through the interior of the car and Thranduil lowered his hands, closing his eyes and resting his head against the headrest.

“Better?” she asked as she turned her attention once more to the road.

“Much,” he murmured, though his hands hand resumed their painfully tight grip on the armrests. Then his eyes snapped open and he glared at her. “You just called me a pointy-eared princess!” This came out sounding very much the accusation it was meant to be.

Charlotte schooled her features as best she could. “Did I?” she asked innocently.

Thranduil glared at her a moment longer before resuming listening to the harmonious music. He closed his eyes once more, and said quietly, though loud enough for her to hear, “And I’m not wearing panties…and I absolutely refuse to wear the underwear you bought me.”

Charlotte let out a scandalised gasp and Thranduil smiled to himself, thoroughly pleased with her reaction - which was what he had been aiming for. He didn’t need to look at her to know that she was blushing furiously at his statement. Truth was, he found the briefs quite comfortable, but he was not about to divulge this bit of information to her. _Let her squirm a bit in her embarrassment. She deserves it for that remark…_

ooOoo

 

By the time they arrived home, dusk was imminent; the afternoon sky darkening as it prepared for the oncoming twilight hour. Charlotte despised this time of year and longed for the sweltering heat of summer, where the days stretched endlessly in sunlight and were filled with barbeques and days at the pool or beach. November was fast approaching and with it came the longer nights, accompanied by the bone chilling cold that seemed never-ending and relentless in its assault.

Charlotte pressed the button on the remote and the door to the garage slowly opened, allowing them entrance. She was infinitely grateful that her dad had installed it years prior; it was something that made everyday life so much easier. The interior of the garage was dimly lit by the single light bulb hanging from the rafters, illuminating all the various tools stashed on the shelves that lined the back wall. There was a single work bench in the corner, unused and probably would never see another project laid on its rough wooden surface ever again.

As soon as the car was parked and Charlotte had killed the engine, Thranduil was instantly out, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Never again,” he warned, his voice sharp and his eyes glinting with their abject refusal.

Charlotte smirked. “Finally, something the mighty King Thranduil is afraid of.”

“I am afraid of many things, Charlotte. It is not a lack of fear that makes someone brave, but rather the ability to face that fear.”

“And yet you refuse to do it again,” she pointed out as she made her way to the door that led to the kitchen, Thranduil following close behind her.

“That’s because I am no fool, either.”

They stepped inside and Charlotte made a beeline for the kettle. Thranduil shrugged off his jacket with all the elegance of his kind and hung it on the coat rack beside his beloved cloak.

He turned and studied the diminutive female who was currently preparing two mugs of the hot beverage, and noted that she was still wearing her jacket. The interior of this house did seem rather chilly, especially for his companion. Thranduil barely noticed it, priding himself in being almost impervious to the outer elements. But Charlotte was not built like him.

Snatching his cloak off the hook, Thranduil strode forward with purpose and draped it over her hunched shoulders before stepping back. Charlotte gave him a grateful smile and Thranduil was about to respond in kind when he remembered his resolve to keep boundaries with this one. _It would not do to get too familiar with her, especially when he did not plan to stay here long. And she was human, a mortal, after all…_

Charlotte’s smile faltered when she noted his stony, expressionless face and she turned back to prepare the tea, silently handing him his mug before heading to the living room. She shrugged off the cloak and her jacket and draped them over the back of the armchair before going over to the desk in the corner. Charlotte fired up her laptop as she sat down on the computer chair, taking a sip from her mug.

“I’m going to order some supper,” she said in an attempt to fill the silence that now permeated the house. She sensed Thranduil entering the room and she wondered briefly if he was still angry about her earlier comment. Or rather, insult? _Was that the reason he was suddenly being so aloof?_ “How does Chinese sound?”

“Order what you will. I’ll suffer through it like all the rest,” he commented drily as he placed his own tea on the coffee table.

“I should get you some spicy curry. You don’t know what suffering is like until you’ve ingested that!” Charlotte muttered darkly as she scrolled through the chosen website, selecting various options of food.

Thranduil shot her an amused smile as he paced around the room, studying the various framed photos that hung on the wall. There was one of a chubby smiling baby ensconced in a frilly pink dress, and Thranduil blinked in surprise when he realised that this was Charlotte as a baby. His eyes wandered over the few other portraits, some showing Charlotte at various ages, and then he came upon one with her sitting on a chair, flanked on either side by an older couple. Charlotte was younger here, her brunette hair much longer and hanging in lustrous waves down her back. Thranduil cocked his head to the side, intrigued by the innocence and pure joy radiating from her youthful face, her eyes dancing with an inner light. _Quite the contrast to the present version_. Her father was of average height with thinning dark hair a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his narrow nose. Her mother was an older looking version of Charlotte, though her hair was much shorter and styled in a tight updo. They beamed with equal exuberance as their daughter, and there was no doubt that this had been a tight-knit and happy family.

Thranduil glanced back at Charlotte, but she was too intent on what she looking at on that piece of technology to pay him much attention. Curiosity got the better of him and Thranduil strolled over to her, bending at the waist to peer over shoulder as she clicked and selected certain items.

“What is this?” he asked, his eyes glued to the screen.

“A computer,” she replied absently.

Thranduil angled his head so that he was now peering at her, his hair falling around him and framing his face like a sheer silken curtain. She slowly turned her attention away from the screen and returned his penetrating gaze. Time seemed to come to a standstill as both locked gazes: ice blue peering into warm hazel. Charlotte was the first to blink and glance away, a delicious pink creeping onto those pale cheeks.

“And what does a computer do?” he enquired. He straightened up, his grand height towering over her slouched form.

“Let me finish this order quickly,” she mumbled. Finally, she made a final click and exited the website before swivelling in her chair to give him her attention. “Bring a chair and I’ll show you.”

The next hour was spent with her showing Thranduil a few things that could be done on a computer. His interest was piqued when Charlotte introduced him to Google and all the information he could search for. Thranduil followed with rapt attention, his eyes not missing a single click of her mouse.

The doorbell rang and Charlotte vacated her seat as she went to pay for their meal, soon returning with bags that held their food. She paused before she entered the kitchen, a small smile gracing her lips when she saw Thranduil seated on her chair and scrolling through some site he had found. _He really is a fast learner,_ she mused to herself. Charlotte went to the kitchen and started unpacking the containers, the aroma of Chinese food wafting through the air and making her empty belly growl in anticipation. She set the table and then made her way to the living room.

“Thranduil, do you want to come and eat?”

Thranduil was wide-eyed as his eyes flickered back and forth as he read something on the screen. He slowly turned that unnatural gaze upon her.

“ _What_ is this?” he asked, pointing a perfectly polished finger at the screen.

Charlotte frowned and came over, leaning forward to read whatever he was looking at a bit better. She ignored the feel of her arm brushing against his shoulder, though she could not ignore the way her heart sped up at the completely innocent touch. Thranduil, for his part, seemed completely unaffected.

Her eyes widened as she realised what she was reading and she hastily straightened.

“Why are there stories about me?” Thranduil enquired, a dark brow raised questioningly. “All of them very inaccurate, I might add.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip. _Oh boy! How to explain this to him?_ “You’ve, uh, found a fanfiction site, Thranduil. A place where people write about their favorite characters. How did you find it?”

“I typed my name in and this is what came up. So you’re telling me that there are fictional stories about me written here.”

“Um…kinda. There are millions of stories with many, many different characters. Not just you.”

“And is this normal?” he asked, his face a perfect mask as he jabbed his finger against one of the paragraphs on the screen.

Charlotte leaned forward once more to read. Her throat went suddenly dry and she found that she could not meet his gaze as heat blazed all the way to the roots of her hair. Thranduil had stumbled on a very explicit fanfiction of himself.

“Uh…I…” Charlotte cringed at her awkwardness and embarrassment as she stepped back nervously, suddenly not wanting to be so close to him. _Of all the things that Thranduil could have discovered, it had to be this!_

“Have you ever read any of these?” he pressed.

“A…few,” she admitted, her cheeks hot with her shame.

“About me?”

Charlotte’s head snapped up and she saw the cheeky and all too smug smile on that gorgeous face of his.

“No!”

Thranduil raised a brow, showing that he did not believe her. “Of who then?” he challenged.

_Oh God! Was he really going to make her say it?_

“I’m not telling you,” she snapped, desperate to retreat to the kitchen.

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he grinned at her discomfort, his dimples showing plainly. “It was of me, wasn’t it?”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. Thranduil was being quite conceited and she wanted to wipe that smug look right off his face.

“Actually, it was of Legolas!” she stated firmly, leaving no doubt that she was telling the truth. His reaction was satisfying to say the least. The smile instantly vanished and his eyes narrowed dangerously, but not before she caught the flash of hurt that passed through those simmering depths.

Charlotte turned on her heel and marched to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Dinner is ready!”

 

ooOoo

 

To say dinner was awkward was an understatement. Thranduil was bristling as he sat opposite her, barely looking at Charlotte as he studiously at his sweet and sour chicken balls and rice.

“Are you sulking?” she finally asked, unable to bear the hostility that seemed to hang between them like a thick, impenetrable cloud. She laid down her fork on her plate, deciding enough was enough. “Look, I’m sorry. You were making fun at me and I lashed out.”

Thranduil slowly lifted his gaze to stare at her, his face an achingly neutral mask. “Is it true what you said about my son?”

Charlotte let out a deep sigh. “No. Well, I mean I used to read fanfiction of him when I was younger, but that phase has long since passed.” Thranduil said nothing, so Charlotte continued. “It was wrong of me to say that, and I apologise profusely for it.”

Thranduil seemed mollified and lifted his glass of water to his lips, taking a small sip. Placing his glass down, he returned his attention back to her. “Apology accepted.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at the haughty tone. “And?”

“And what?” he asked, perplexed.

“You owe me an apology as well.”

“Whatever for?”

“For trying to embarrass me.”

His eyes crinkled as he flashed her a smile. “Ah, but it is so wonderful to see you blush, little one.”

Charlotte rubbed her forehead. “Something tells me that you get sadistic pleasure out of my mortification.”

“You would be correct in that assessment.”

Charlotte shook her head, though a smile tugged at her lips. _Who would have guessed that the Mighty Thranduil was capable of such childish delight?_

“Oh,” she said, pushing back her chair to stand. “I got you something yesterday, but I forgot all about it.” Charlotte made her way to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of chilled wine.

Thranduil’s eyes instantly alighted with unrestrained joy. Charlotte grinned at this undisguised (and rare) emotion and proceeded to uncork it before taking the bottle to him, along with a crystal wine glass that was part of her mother’s collection.

“Is it any good?” he asked, taking the glass and bottle from her proffered hand, pouring a generous amount of the red liquid into the glimmering glass.

“I don’t know. I was not much of a drinker before…” She stopped and shook her head to dispel the memory.

Thranduil took a sip of the (in his opinion) lacklustre wine, his eyes never leaving hers. “What is your aversion to drinking, Charlotte?”

Charlotte sat down and prodded her noodles with her fork. Finally she met his gaze. “It’s not so much an aversion, but I haven’t been able to stomach a drink since…my parents were killed by a drunk driver.”

Thranduil tilted his head to the side, his penetrating gaze curiously studying her. It was obvious that her grief was still fresh and raw, and it was a monumental step that she was opening up to him. He placed his glass down gently on the wooden surface of the table.

“I am truly sorry, little one,” he said, his voice soft and melodious.

Charlotte shook her head and hastily wiped at her eyes. She took in a deep breath and lifted her gaze to him, a watery smile planted on her face, but he saw through the façade.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, glancing down at her uneaten food.

Thranduil reached over and took her smaller hand in his own. For some unknown reason, it seemed to pierce him right through his heart to see her clearly suffering, which bought out a surge of protectiveness and a desire to banish such pain from her soul.

“It’s normal to grieve, Charlotte. Never be sorry for feeling the way you do,” he assured, his thumb grazing idly over the back of her hand.

Charlotte’s attention fluttered to their clasped hands, as did Thranduil’s. He could not deny that he liked the way her hand fit perfectly in his. _This has to stop,_ his voice of reason stated. _Do not give hope where there is none to be had!_

Then she met his eyes and Thranduil felt the very air leave his lungs at the swirl of profound emotions on display in that pretty face of hers, clear yet unreadable. _Maybe he had it all wrong and it was the other way round: he should not chase after a hope that was not conceivable._

His ears pricked at a distant sound and Thranduil tore his gaze away to look in the direction of the living room.

“Someone is coming,” he said, whipping his head back to look at Charlotte.

She blinked in confusion and then bolted out of her chair to head towards the living room window, leaving his hand feeling cold and empty. Thranduil followed with a more feline grace and came to stand beside her, his back straight and his hands clasped behind his back.

A car could be seen coming up the gravel driveway, the headlights cutting through the black night, and as it neared both Thranduil and Charlotte saw that it was a black SUV.

Charlotte’s visibly stiffened beside him, causing Thranduil to glance at her in concern.

“Shit!” she cursed, her face going pale. “It’s Eric.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge shout out to DeputyMom62 for the fantastic suggestion of Thranduil discovering dirty fanfic of himself! I had such fun writing that part :D
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a review, fav and follow.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has left such wonderful and supportive reviews! You guys are absolutely the best!

Thranduil stared down at the now visibly frightened human next to him. He was standing close enough that he could literally hear Charlotte’s heart hammering in the confines of her chest, and the slight tremble that coursed through her body cemented in his mind that she was afraid of this Eric.

“Who is Eric?” he asked in a calm voice, though his body went taut with readiness to spring into action. He did not like this reaction that was coming from Charlotte, and it greatly unsettled him.

Charlotte turned her attention to the Elven King and she swallowed hard. “You need to hide,” she stated, suddenly grabbing his hand and leading him to the stairs.

Thranduil was momentarily caught off guard to offer much resistance as they ascended. “Is he dangerous?”

Charlotte didn’t offer a response as she glanced back and forth from his bedroom to hers, her warm hazel eyes now wide and clouded with her abject terror. “You’ll have to hide out in my room, Thranduil,” she insisted.

Thranduil dug in his heels as she yanked uselessly on his hand, unwilling to budge. Charlotte glanced back at him, her eyes silently pleading with him. “Please, Thranduil. You need to stay hidden.”

Thranduil tightened his grip on her hand and yanked at her arm, the momentum causing Charlotte to stumble towards him. Thranduil caught her with expert ease, ignoring the fact that she was now dangerously close, the heat from her body radiating through the thin material of his shirt. He also chose to ignore the sudden hitch in her breath, or the way her pulse sped up beneath his fingertips.

“First you need to tell what is going on,” he said, his voice going low, but firm as he lowered his head. It was plainly obvious that this Eric was bad news, especially if he could cause such palpable fear to emanate from her very being.

Charlotte’s eyes flickered to the stairs, as though she expected Eric to come storming up them this very second. She glanced back at his penetrating gaze and bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit of hers that he had grown accustomed to.

“There’s no time, Thranduil. You need to go and hide right now!” she said, her voice almost shrill.

Thranduil narrowed his ice blue eyes. “If he is this dangerous, then there is no way that I am leaving you alone with him.”

Charlotte let out a shaky and frustrated sigh and leaned her forehead against his chest, her arm and hand still firmly in his clutches. She took a deep breath and glanced back up at him.

“He’s not dangerous to me, Thranduil, but he is very dangerous to you.”

Thranduil scoffed. “I highly doubt that.”

Charlotte shook her head. “No. You don’t understand, Thranduil. Eric is part of the government. If he finds out about you, there is no way that I will be able to keep you safe.”

Thranduil blinked, ice seeping into his heart as her words hit him with full force. He had come to trust Charlotte, but why was someone from the government suddenly here? It all seemed rather coincidental, but there was no trace of lies in her words, though, nor was there any deceit written on her features. Charlotte really did want to keep him safe.

Thranduil let go of his hold on her and raised his hands to cup her face between his calloused palms, forcing her to look up at him. “Very well. But can you promise me that he will not hurt you?”

Charlotte chewed her bottom lip, her eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips. Finally she replied, “No, I don’t think he will hurt me. Eric is not one for physical violence. He prefers…other methods of causing pain.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, her words being of little assurance to him. There was a story here, but now was not the time.

“Please,” she whispered, her hands drawing up and covering his own.

Confliction warred within him, but Thranduil knew he was going to have to trust her, though that didn’t mean that he couldn’t take precautions. He gave a small nod and Charlotte instantly deflated with relief.

“Hide out in my room. His boxes are stashed in your room and that’s probably why he’s here.” Charlotte paused, and then added in a much softer tone, “I hope.”

Stepping out of his grasp, Charlotte made her way towards the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder, but saw that Thranduil had already disappeared like a phantom of the night. _It was unnerving how silently her elvish guest could move. And it was even more unnerving that she could still feel the heat from his hands scorched onto the flesh of her cheeks._

A loud knock on the front door sounded, causing Charlotte to startle in fright. _Damn Vanessa and whatever rumor she decided to relay back to Eric!_ She grumbled to herself as she descended the stairs, running her hand over the worn wooden railing. _That bitchy Barbie really liked to stir trouble._

She did not see Thranduil slip from his bedroom and glide with stealthy silence to her bedroom, leaving the door open a crack to peer out from. His hand hovered by the hilt of his sword that he had retrieved, ready to cut down this Eric if he even so much as laid a hand on Charlotte.

Charlotte paused by the locked door, contemplating whether to open it or not. _Perhaps she should ignore it._ She really did not want to face Eric, even though it had been six months…

Another loud knock sounded and Charlotte swallowed hard, steeling her shaky nerves. _Best get this over with…_

She unlocked the door and opened it, coming face to face with Eric, who was standing just outside the threshold. He was dressed in his impeccable black suit and crisp white dress shirt, a silky black tie knotted at the stiff collar and tucked away neatly into his buttoned up jacket. His ash blonde hair was swept the side in a neat partition, stylishly cut by an expensive stylist, no doubt. The suit did little to hide his just under six foot frame, but his height now seemed rather stunted when compared to Thranduil’s impressive stature.

Eric’s cornflower blue eyes stared back at her, and Charlotte noted that his chiselled square-jawed face was clean shaven as usual. There had been a time where the very sight of Eric would have sent her heart fluttering with excitement, but now all she felt was deadening dread. She had been hopelessly in love with him once, but that love had turned to hate after what he had done.

“Hello, Charlotte,” he greeted. Eric’s posture was relaxed, but Charlotte was not fooled.

“What do you want, Eric,” she asked, her voice taking on an air of hostility that she didn’t think she was capable of.

Eric glanced down at his shiny black dress shoes and then looked back up at her, his eyes twinkling and a lazy smile creeping on his thin lips. “I came to collect the rest of my things.”

_Ah, so he was going to go with that pretense._

As loathe as she was to admit it, Charlotte knew she could not carry the heavy boxes all the way downstairs. She had no choice but to let him in. Plus, if he got all of his stuff out now, he would have no other excuse to return. She hoped.

She opened the door wide and stepped back to allow him entrance. Eric beamed at her, a smile that she did not return.

“Your boxes are in the spare bedroom,” she stated coolly, turning on her heel to march up the stairs. She didn’t need to look back to know that he was following - she could practically feel his eyes boring into her back. As she reached the top of the stairway, her eyes flickered to her bedroom door, which was ajar. She thought she caught a glimpse of silver from within the dark and unlit interior, but she couldn’t be certain. She just had to pray that Thranduil would heed her warning and stay hidden.

She went straight to the closet in the spare room and opened it, revealing the boxes neatly stacked inside. She breathed out a sigh of relief that Thranduil had not chosen this closet to store any of his belongings in.

“The quilt has been replaced with a blanket,” Eric remarked.

“So?” she asked irritably.

“Do you have someone staying with you?” he enquired casually.

Charlotte turned around and noted with annoyance that Eric was slowly pacing the room, his eyes taking in every minute detail. He walked over to the dresser and picked up the circlet that belonged to Thranduil, holding up the delicate interwoven piece of jewelry for further inspection. Charlotte’s mouth suddenly went dry. Hopefully to Eric it would look like a tiara, and he would not make the connection that it belonged to a fictional Elven King.

Charlotte marched over to him and snatched the circlet from his hand, placing it firmly on her head. She had expected the pointed ends to dig uncomfortably into her skin, but it was surprisingly feather light and comfortable.

“Don’t touch my stuff,” she warned before heading back to the closet and heaved out the first box, thrusting it into Eric’s arms. He adjusted it with little effort.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“That’s because it has nothing to do with you. Or Vanessa,” she snapped peevishly as she grabbed the other box, her arms straining under the weight.

Eric raised a blonde eyebrow. “You can’t blame me for being concerned, Charlie.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

His eyes widened fractionally in surprise, though she couldn’t tell if his expression was genuine or not. “Why not? I used to call you that all the time when we were together.”

“Exactly. We’re not together anymore, and you lost all rights to act concerned when you left me for Lucy.” Charlotte pushed forward, her box bumping with the other in Eric’s hands, and he took the hint. He turned and went downstairs, followed a few steps behind by Charlotte. They proceeded to load the boxes into his car in awkward and hostile silence, and went back into the house to retrieve the last one.

Eric hefted it from the closet and went downstairs, uncharacteristically silent and calm. He paused by the door and took a deep sniff.

“Chinese?” he asked.

“Yes,” Charlotte replied, wishing he would just leave already.

And then before she could stop him, Eric dropped the box and headed straight to the kitchen, where it was obvious that there were two place settings.

“It seems I interrupted dinner,” he said slyly, his voice sounding almost triumphant. “So where is he?” Eric turned to look at her with a scrutinising gaze.

Now Charlotte had always considered herself a timid person, hardly daring to stand up for herself and going to great lengths to avoid confrontation, even when the signs of Eric and Lucy had become obvious. So it was with great surprise that she pointed a stiff arm towards the front door and growled, “Out!”

Eric blinked in surprise, taken off guard by Charlotte showing such defiance, especially towards him. His eyes narrowed and he said in a low voice, “Careful, Charlotte. It would be wise for you to know who you’re letting into your life.”

“I wish I had known that before I let you into my life, Eric. Now get out of my house and out of my life,” she stated firmly, her eyes glinting like shards of glass.

“I am only concerned about you, Charlotte,” he protested, his voice raising subtly.

“Well, you should be more concerned about your pregnant girlfriend instead of your ex!”

Eric reeled back as though she had physically struck him, and part of her wished that she had. It was obvious he had not expected such retaliation from her, but he had not counted on months of brewing anger and betrayal, now coupled with her desperation to keep Thranduil safe from Eric’s clutches.

Eric gave a curt nod, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and left with a slam of the door. When she heard the sound of tires crunching on the gravel, growing fainter as he headed further away, Charlotte slumped, clutching at the back of the kitchen chair for support. She concentrated on evening out her ragged breathes, closing her eyes tightly as she pushed down all those painful memories Eric had dredged up.

Thranduil watched the whole exchange from the shadows upstairs, his jaw clenched and fury pitted in those icy blue eyes. It took all his resolve not to follow the despicable man outside and cause him great bodily harm. And he greatly suspected that there was even more to the story. Something more that would make his blood boil. He prided himself on keeping his emotions in check and being the level-headed king that he was supposed to be, but there was just something about seeing little Charlotte in distress that called to the deep recesses of his heart. He waited until he heard the car leave and slowly made his way to the kitchen, dreading what state he was going to find her in.

 

ooOoo

Charlotte startled when she felt a slender hand touch her shoulder with tentative concern. She turned and before Thranduil could react, she had her arms wrapped around his middle and her cheek nestled against his chest. Thranduil frowned at such unaccustomed familiarity, but chalked it up to being a human trait. Or maybe it was just Charlotte. What surprised him even more was when his arms wrapped around her of their own accord and he offered her the comfort she was desperately seeking.

“I…I just need a moment,” she said, her voice hollow to his pointed ears. “Then I’ll explain everything to you.”

“Of course,” he replied, “but may I do something first?”

Charlotte pulled back and frowned up at him. “What?”

Thranduil lifted his hands to the circlet that rested on her head and he slowly lifted it, turned it around and placed it back in the right position.

“Much better,” he stated.

Her hand flew the circlet. “You mean I had it on wrong?”

“Yes,” he said simply, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smile.

Charlotte let out a huff. “I can’t even put on a bloody tiara right!”

“True, but either way looks adorable on you.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him, unable to tell whether he was teasing or not. The smile faded from his face when he noted the forlorn expression that washed over her features. This meeting with Eric had unnerved Charlotte more than she was willing to admit. It had unnerved him as well. There was something about Eric that he did not like nor trust, but his main concern right now was Charlotte.

“Go and sit down and I’ll make you some tea,” he said, placing his hand gently against the small of her back and guiding her to the living room. He watched as she snatched up his cloak from the back of the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders like a security blanket before sitting down heavily on the sofa.

_If he ever found a way back to Middle Earth, he was going to have to leave his cloak behind for her. She has grown rather attached to it,_ he thought to himself as he headed back to the kitchen to prepare the tea. He ignored the tiny jab of discomfort at the thought of not being able to see Charlotte again.

Thranduil made his way back to the living room with a mug of tea for Charlotte and a generous glass of wine for himself, and placed them on the coffee table before sitting on the sofa next to Charlotte, crossing his legs and sitting back with languid ease. But he was far from ease as he studied her. Charlotte’s legs were drawn up protectively to her chest and she was staring out the window, deeply lost in her mercurial thoughts and a grim, and almost lost, expression on her face.

Thranduil patiently waited, taking a few sips from the red liquid of the foul tasting wine. _Oh what he wouldn’t give for some Dorwinion wine right about now. This turn of events certainly required something a lot stronger that this,_ he thought, staring sourly at the offending glass of wine.

When Charlotte finally spoke her voice sounded disconnected and hollow. “Eric and I were high school sweethearts. I thought he was the one I was going to marry,” she said with a bitter laugh. Thranduil watched her with a neutral expression as she reached over and took her mug of tea, cradling the cup between her cold hands. She blew on the hot liquid, thinking of how to proceed with the story.

“He went on to join the CIA, which is a government intelligence agency dealing with national security. They are the people you don’t want to have any dealings with, Thranduil.”

Thranduil gave a small nod, the epitome of calm, even though a roiling storm was brewing from within. Charlotte sighed and took a sip of her tea before continuing. “As for me, I joined an accounting firm after University, and somewhere along the way we became engaged.”

Thranduil stilled. The thought of Charlotte marrying that man did not settle well in his heart. _Of all the suitors she could have had, why had she choosen Eric?_

“Then a year ago my parents were killed and I left to come here for a few weeks to start packing things up and preparing to sell the house.” Charlotte paused and shook her head sadly. “But I just couldn’t do it. And I suppose, in hindsight, I knew something was going on and that I would need my childhood home to come back to.”

Charlotte swallowed thickly, her eyes downcast and unseeing. Thranduil reached over and took her hand in his own. Charlotte looked up at him with those warm hazel eyes that shimmered with unshed tears and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, silently encouraging her to continue with her story.

“Then six months ago Eric comes out and tells me that he and my best friend Lucy have been seeing each other and that she’s pregnant with his child.”

Thranduil’s eyes furrowed, anger furling within him at this statement. This was just beyond despicable. This was deplorable. Appalling. Disgraceful. There were so many words he could think of to describe Eric, but none of them would be effective enough.

Seeing the dark expression that flooded his luminous and usually calm façade, Charlotte asked timidly, “Thranduil?”

Thranduil blinked and glanced up at Charlotte. “Infidelity is inconceivable for elves, Charlotte. To willing hurt your life partner, whom you have pledged to love and protect, is highly frowned upon. In fact, it is considered one of the greatest sins.”

Charlotte gave him a humorless smile. “Sadly, that’s not always the way in my world,” she said despondently.

Silence stretched before them, which was finally broken by Charlotte. “You know what the worst part was?”

Thranduil gave a slight shake of his head. _Dear Eru! There was something worse than what she had already told him?_

“He blamed me for the break up. Apparently I was too consumed in my grief of losing my parents and he was forced to look for attention elsewhere.”

If he thought he had been livid before, it was nothing compared to now. Seeing the look on his face, Charlotte gave a dejected sigh.

“It’s classic narcissistic behaviour, Thranduil. Blame someone else for your wrongdoing, and even though you know you’re in the wrong, you justify your actions that you start believing that what you did was right.”

Thranduil was at a loss for words. His little human companion should not have gone through what she had. But as he stared at her, his face a stony mask of perfection, he glimpsed a steel like resolve. Yes, she was bitter, but she had not shed a tear once since Eric’s arrival.

“You’re handling this quite well. I was expecting to come down and find a blubbering, weeping female.”

Charlotte looked him straight in the eye. “I refuse to shed any tears over Eric anymore. His actions showed that he never loved me, Thranduil. If you love someone, you will do everything in your power not to cause them any pain.” Charlotte glanced away to stare once more out of the window. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “Granted, it hurt in the beginning, but I’m not going to waste my tears on someone who clearly never loved me to begin with.”

Thranduil gazed at Charlotte in a new light. He had gravely underestimated this one. She was strong and resilient down to the core, even if she didn’t fully know it yet.

He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. When he met her eyes, he noted the unmistakable blush creeping on her cheeks.

“You are certainly wise beyond your years, little one. And stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not strong, Thranduil. Far from it.”

“Yes, you are. And you want to know why?”

Charlotte sighed and decided to humor him. “Why?”

Thranduil lifted his chin, staring down his nose at her in a haughty manner. “Because I am King and what I say is correct.”

Charlotte chuckled and Thranduil relaxed, relieved to see her good humor returning.

“But I do not trust Eric. I think it would be wise to be extra vigilant,” he stated.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. He’s not going to drop this.”

As she held his hand, staring out into the inky black of night outside, Charlotte sensed they would have to make preparations and be prepared for when Eric chose to strike. Her years with Eric had taught her that he held a grudge and he was definitely not happy with his earlier treatment, regardless of how well deserved. He would find a way to make her life hell. The question was: when?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A huge Thank You to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story. You guys are just absolutely wonderful!  
> This chapter went through quite a few rewrites until I was marginally satisfied with it. I just hope I did it justice. I hope you all enjoy it :)

Thranduil stared up at the ceiling of his room (though he could not think of it as such), sleep being stubbornly elusive as ever. His thoughts were on a continuous cycle of what had transpired earlier; from Eric and the threat he posed, to Charlotte and her very real fear of this despicable man. His fists involuntarily clenched at his side, causing Thranduil to frown. _Why did it bother him in such a way? After all, Charlotte should mean nothing to him…_ But he knew that was not entirely true, either. In a short span of time he had come care for her. Though, in what manner he was not willing to admit to.

After an hour of shifting and wiggling, trying to find a comfortable spot, he let out a heavy and defeated sigh and decided to go drink the last of the rancid wine instead. _He was really starting to miss the finer comforts of his home._ He threw back the covers and pulled on the pajama pants and top he had worn his first night here. His eyes wandered to the vulgar elf pajamas folded neatly on his dresser and shook his head. _If Charlotte thought he was ever going to wear that, she had another thing coming!_

He made his way to the kitchen, a dark scowl painted on his perfect porcelain features. He was feeling agitated and a dark mood enveloped him. He half-heartedly wished Eric were here so that he could pummel the retched man. It wouldn’t solve anything, but it certainly would make him feel better.

He flicked on the light and made his way to the fridge.

“Couldn’t sleep, either?”

Thranduil whirled around, his eyes widening in surprise. It was not every day he was caught off guard, especially by a mere little human girl. _Woman,_ he corrected himself.

Charlotte was seated at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and staring at him pointedly.

“No, and it would seem that you could not either.”

Charlotte shook her head, her rumpled hair swaying with the motion. “Nope. Too much on my mind for sleep.”

Thranduil nodded and turned to retrieve the bottle of wine. Charlotte watched with hypnotic fascination as his shirt stretch taut against his lithe muscles as Thranduil opened the cupboard  above his head and reached up for a wine glass. Her eyes wandered lower and she blushed when she realised how low the pajama bottoms were riding on his narrow hips. She quickly averted her eyes and took a sip from her tea.

“I see you’re still refusing to wear the pajamas.”

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder, a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. “Be thankful I haven’t made good on my promise, Charlotte.”

His smirk widened when he noted the delicious blush deepening on those pale cheeks. _Serves her right!_

Thranduil bought his now full glass over to the table and seated himself opposite her with liquid ease, his unblinking gaze studying her. “I take it that our little problem with Eric has kept you up?”

Charlotte finally met his gaze. “It’s not a little problem, Thranduil. Eric can, and will, cause a lot of trouble if he finds out about you and who you really are. But…”

Thranduil raised a perfectly shaped brow at her dramatic pause.

“He is no fool either. Eric will do things by the book so that it doesn’t come back to bite him on the ass. Right now, he has absolutely no idea who you are. This will give us some time to prepare.”

“How much time?”

Charlotte chewed on the inside of her cheek. “He will start by trying to dig up any information on you. When he can’t find anything, he will have to request to put surveillance on my house. He will need a good excuse for his bosses, and it will have to go through all the right channels. My guess…” Charlotte paused and sighed. “Two months, tops.”

Thranduil kept his face impassive as he leaned back in his chair, but he felt as though the very air had been knocked from his lungs.

“That’s assuming he plays by the rules,” he finally replied.

Charlotte grimaced. “Yeah, that’s a very strong possibility. I do have a plan, though. All those years spent with Eric has taught me a thing or two. We just have to be ready when he finally decides to strike…” Charlotte trailed off as she stared off into space.

Thranduil was silent for a few moments. “Why did you choose such a man, Charlotte?”

Shame colored her features and Charlotte lowered her gaze, staring into her nearly empty mug. “Because I didn’t think I could do any better,” she mumbled. “And he wasn’t always like…this.”

Thranduil tilted his head to the side. The truth was plain: Charlotte truly believed this of herself. He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips under her chin, gently coaxing her to look at him. She kept those glimmering hazel eyes downcast, but slowly lifted her gaze to meet his.

Time seemed to shimmer to a standstill as he gazed into those warm depths, so full of emotions and a simmering fire; it was almost too overwhelming for him to bear witness to it. But what took his breath away was the absence of self-pity. Just plain admittance and a fiery determination swimming to the forefront, and he felt a smile slowly form on his lips at such a sight.

“You’re a fighter, Charlotte,” he mused, his voice dropping to a husky octave, “Never lose that fire that burns so fiercely within you.”

He could not seem to tear his gaze away, and was inwardly relieved when she sat back, effectively withdrawing from his touch.

Charlotte stood, looking somewhat confused by what had just transpired between them, if anything at all. She couldn’t be too sure what had just happened. All she knew was that she felt very confused. And conflicted. _And the damn elf just seemed cool and unaffected as he stared back at her._

“I’m…I’m going to bed.”

Thranduil silently watched as she fled back to the sanctity of her room, and let out a shaky sigh when he was sure that she was out of earshot, his mask of indifference fading from his face. He took a long gulp of the wine, pulling a disgusted face as the foul liquid burned down his throat and warmed his chest.

It was obvious that Charlotte was affected by his presence. He was used to the thinly veiled gazes that were thrown his way by the human women of Dale when he made the rare visit there, so this was nothing new to him. But _his_ reactions were definitely novel. _New and forbidden. And very, very dangerous._

ooOoo

 

The incessant blaring of the alarm clock tore Charlotte from her deep sleep. She rolled over with a groan, swatting blindly at the annoying appliance. _Of all the things to be invented, the alarm clock was definitely the most annoying of them all!_

She struggled up and rubbed at her bleary eyes, the remnants of her dream still crystal clear. _Electric blue eyes boring into her very soul as his lips slowly lowered to meet her own, heated fingertips trailing a scorching path along her bare skin_ …Charlotte groaned. She should not be thinking about Thranduil in such an illicit way. He was off limits. Very, very off limits.

 She glanced back at her bed, which temptingly beckoned to her, and knew she had to get up now or she would never leave its warm confines, or the promise of another sensual dream. _Dammit, Charlotte. Get your head straight!_

Sighing in defeat, Charlotte trudged to the bathroom and took a hot shower, which washed away the last remnants of sleep, and then proceeded to get dressed in black slacks and a cornflower blue blouse. Next she applied her makeup and straightened her hair before heading to the kitchen to grab a cup of tea and some breakfast before heading out to work.

“By the Valor! What have you done to your hair?!”

Charlotte whirled around to see a rather perplexed looking Thranduil standing in the archway that led to the living room. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a charcoal grey shirt that showed off his lithe form to perfection. His posture, as always, was in true form, his back straight as an arrow.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” She fired back, her heart hammering in her chest, though she didn’t know whether it was from the fright he gave her, or…from something else. The dream came to the forefront and she immediately squashed those images back down with a stern internal reprimand.

“I’m always up at this hour, sometimes earlier.”

Charlotte’s eyes flickered to the rooster clock hanging on the wall. It was six thirty in the morning, and by the looks of him, Thranduil had indeed been up a while.

“The past two mornings I have noted your…dedication to sleeping in late. So I have to wonder what has possessed you to rise so early.”

Charlotte turned around and prepared her tea, and automatically made him a cup, too. “I have to go to work, Thranduil.”

“All day?”

“Yes, all day. I might be a little late getting home today as I need to do a few things after work.”

“Such as?”

Charlotte stilled, sensing him coming to stand right behind her. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine his breath fluttering across the back of her neck. Charlotte swallowed hard as she recalled with crystal clear clarity how it had felt in the dream.

“I’m going to get a few things so that we’ll be prepared for when Eric strikes,” she answered, willing herself to act normal. Charlotte turned around and almost bumped into the towering Elven King, who backed up a step with the graceful movement of a feline, his hands clasped behind his back. Charlotte shook her head. His movements were so methodical and precise, yet fluid and effortless.

“So while I’m gone, can I trust that you won’t burn down the house?” she asked, giving him a pointed look before turning and grabbing a bowl from the cupboard.

“In all my years, I have never set anything on fire.”

Charlotte glanced over her should only to see him openly smirking at her, his dimples showing. She raised a suspicious brow, clearly stating that she did not believe him in the least.

His grin widened. “Well, at least not by accident.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes and went to the cupboard next to him, retrieving a box of cereal and trying hard to ignore how close she was to the enchanting elf. Thranduil watched her every movement with that unnerving and unblinking gaze.

“You never answered my question.”

“Which one?” Charlotte asked as she poured the bran flakes into the bowl and then went to the fridge for the jug of milk.

“ _What_ did you do to your hair?”

“I straightened it. Now what would you like for breakfast?” she replied, going back to her bowl and pouring the milk onto the contents.

“Please don’t make me anything. I don’t think my stomach can handle your cooking so early in the morning.”

Charlotte shot him a venom-laced glare as she placed her bowl and his cup of tea on the kitchen table and turned around to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. “You’re such an ass sometimes, Thranduil.”

“I know,” he stated simply. Thranduil finally moved and come to stand before her. He lifted his hand and ran a strand of her hair through his fingertips. “The difference is quite jarring,” he mused.

Charlotte held her breath at the close proximity and wondered when he was going to realise how close he actually was and, more importantly, when would he proceed to maintain a reasonable distance? But he seemed too lost in his inner musings to pay much attention to much else, let alone personal boundaries.

So Charlotte decided to be as bold as he was being right now and she lifted her hand to finger a strand of his hair. It was as silky soft as she had imagined, like the down of a feather, and she felt a twinge of envy that no amount of products was ever going to make her hair look or feel like his.

She glanced up and her breath hitched when her eyes locked with his. She instantly dropped her hand. “Well, if you like, I can curl your hair sometime,” she said with a teasing smile.

Thranduil raised a brow. “No thanks. I don’t want my hair to end up looking like yours.” With that parting remark, he turned and Charlotte watched with fascination as he started to fry up some eggs and make himself some toast while she ate her cereal.

“You really are self-sufficient,” she mused aloud.

“You sound surprised.”

Charlotte shrugged. “It’s just, I never thought a king would know how to cook for himself.”

“What good is a king if he does not know how to take care of himself? Can’t exactly have some inept fool running a kingdom.”

“And here I thought you were going to be bloody useless and I’d have to do everything for you.”

Thranduil switched off the burner and loaded his plate with eggs and buttered toast and came to sit opposite her.

“I’m far from useless, little one,” he said, his deep voice soft and melodious.

_No, you’re just dangerous_ , she thought to herself, lifting her mug to her lips. Yes, Thranduil was lethal, but his danger lay elsewhere. A danger she did not want to admit to herself.

Charlotte drained her mug and stood. “I’d better get going. I need to make a few stops before I head to work.”

“Charlotte?”

Charlotte turned to give him her attention.

“Bring back some more wine. If I am to survive any length of time in this world, I’m going to need more wine.”

 

ooOoo

 

A light snow had started falling from the overcast sky in fluffy flakes, dusting the lands in a fine layer of powdery white.

Instead of heading straight to work, Charlotte made a stop at an ATM and withdrew an amount that would not alert Eric - there was no doubt in her mind that he was going to start monitoring her account very soon. She would have to sporadically withdraw money and stash it away if they were going to be forced to go on the run.

Charlotte shivered, realising that this might very well be the outcome. Like it or not, her fate was now intricately entwined with Thranduil’s and she would not abandon him in his time of need. Nor did she have any desire to do so.

Next, she stopped at a store and bought a cheap prepaid cellphone, one that did not require to be registered in her name. Nor could it be traced back to her as she had paid for it with cash. She would need it to make a few calls on her lunch break.

The hours in her office dragged by as she went over accounts and audits, and wondered not for the first time why she had chosen this field as a career choice. There was nothing thrilling about crunching numbers.

Her mind drifted to Thranduil and she felt a sense of panic that he was all alone right now. Charlotte shook this thought from her head. He was an elf of almost seven thousand years of age. He knew how to take care of himself. But still, she could not take her mind off of him.

Finally lunch rolled around and she went to the conference room, locking the door behind her. Her paranoia had racketed up quite a few notches since Eric’s visit and she was not going to take chances. He could easily have her office and phone bugged. This was something she would not put past the bastard. To everyone else, Eric seemed the epitome of the perfect boyfriend, but behind closed doors he was manipulative and borderline possessive.

She ripped the cellphone out of the package, loaded the minutes and then dialled. A few rings went through and she felt her heart drop at the thought that there might be no answer.

“Hello?” came a gruff voice on the other end, much to her relief.

“Hi Carl. It’s Charlotte. I need a favor.”

 

ooOoo

 

Night had already descended, blanketing this side of the world in murky darkness. Charlotte drove home with extra caution as the snow was now coming down exponentially, the wipers furiously swiping away the flurries.

Charlotte parked in the garage and went to the trunk where she heaved out a box of Thranduil’s coveted wine and a package that Carl had discretely left in the trunk of her car. Charlotte had smiled to herself when she had seen it, knowing how efficient Carl was, and didn’t even bat an eyelid at his ability to break into her car undetected.

The door leading to the kitchen opened, bathing the interior of the garage in harsh light, and revealing Thranduil standing there. He took one look at the box she was struggling with, and a spontaneous grin flashed on his face before he took the box from her hands.

“I hope it’s better than the last bottle,” he stated as he carried the box with effortless ease into the kitchen.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Charlotte muttered under her breath as she rolled her eyes and grabbed the package. Shutting the trunk with an echoing _thunk,_ Charlotte followed Thranduil.

She wasn’t surprised to see Thranduil already uncorking one of the bottles when she entered the room. What surprised her, though, was the fact that she could smell something delicious cooking. She placed the package on the counter and shrugged off her coat and shucked off her boots.

“You’ve been busy,” she commented.

“I was bored,” he replied as he poured himself a generous glass. He took a tentative sip and then gave a small nod of approval. _It would do._

“And you didn’t even start a fire. I’m impressed.”

His ice blue eyes twinkled over the brim of his glass. “I’m an ellon of many talents, Charlotte.”

Charlotte felt her cheeks heat up. _Oh, that could mean so many things…Shut it, Charlotte!_

Thranduil didn’t seem to notice her sudden discomfort at his words, and continued, “And I absolutely refuse to let myself starve.”

“How did you learn to use the oven?”

“Cooking channel,” he replied as he placed his wine glass on the counter and went over to the oven, donning the oven mitts.

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “My. You were bored.”

Thranduil straightened, placing the roaster on top of the stove and turned his attention back to her. He gave her an exasperated roll of his electric blue eyes as he replied, “You have no idea.”

Charlotte smiled and asked, “So what did you make?”

“Rabbit stew.”

Charlotte paused. “Hold up. Where did you get the rabbit?”

“I went hunting,” he said, as though this were obvious.

Charlotte felt a bit queasy and used one of the oven mitts to lift the lid of the roaster, the steam rising from the hot dish bubbling within. It smelled absolutely mouth-watering.

“Oh, the poor bunny,” she said mournfully, placing the lid back.

Thranduil was oddly quiet as he studied her reaction, but all he said was, “Let’s eat. I would like for us to do a bit of training afterwards.”

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte changed into black yoga pants that reached mid-calf and a black nylon workout shirt that had built in support. She made her way downstairs to the basement, blinking in surprise when she noted that a space had been cleared away. _What else had that elf been up to?_ She thought to herself.

Thranduil stood tall and regal looking in the middle of the room, still dressed in his jeans and shirt. Charlotte didn’t think jeans were the most comfortable clothing choice to be sparring in, but she had no doubt Thranduil would make it look effortless, just as he did with everything else.

Thranduil’s eyes widened fractionally at what Charlotte was wearing and he glanced away quickly. _Her clothes were just too tight and left very little to the imagination. But this was the way of her world and he had no right to pass judgement. Well, he wouldn’t exactly call it judgement, but it certainly made it harder for him to concentrate._

Thranduil took a deep breath through his nose and schooled his features before turning to study his nervous looking student. He then slowly circled her as though Charlotte were a prey he was sizing up, and he observed the shift in her demeanor, her nervousness palpable as his eyes raked over her form. He finally came to stand in front of her and noted the pulse beating frantically in her neck.

“You have no form whatsoever. We’re basically going to have to start from scratch with you,” he stated.

“Be gentle,” she said, her voice shaky as she gave him a nervous, tight-lipped smile.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. Then he turned and retrieved his swords. Charlotte’s eyes widened when he handed her one, the finely crafted blade gleaming more brightly than the finest gems. He stepped back and watched as Charlotte fumbled with the hilt, trying to find a comfortable way to hold it.

He took another few steps back and Charlotte glanced up at him, her face showing how uncertain she was feeling.

“Get a feel for it, Charlotte. And when you are ready, I want you to attack me.”

Charlotte blinked. “But I might hurt you!”

Thranduil smirked. “I would like to see you try, little one.”

Charlotte gripped the swords with both hands and made a few practise swings. Thranduil held his breath, suddenly very afraid that she was going to chop one of her limbs off. _Maybe he should have found a stick for her instead…_

“So you just want me to attack you?”

Thranduil gave an imperceptible nod.

Charlotte gulped and then she charged. And she suddenly found herself flat on her back, staring up the cobwebbed ceiling and the sword dropped somewhere on the floor.

Thranduil loomed over her, his sword held loosely to his side.

“What was your first mistake?” he asked, being very much the formidable teacher that she imagined him to be.

Charlotte blinked back her confusion. _What the hell just happened? She hadn’t even see him move!_

“Asking you to train me,” she offered.

Thranduil’s lips twitched. “Yes, that would have been your first mistake. But what was your other mistake.”

“Listening to you,” she grumbled, pushing herself up. Thranduil held out his hand and after a hesitant pause, she took it.

The smile now turned into a full blown grin. “That, too. No, your mistake was attacking without knowing my fighting technique. Size up your opponent instead of blindly charging.”

“But you told me to!” she protested.

Thranduil smirked and let go of her hand, turning his back on her. “And you foolishly listened. What I have now learned is that you have absolutely no fighting experience whatsoever.”

“I could have told you that,” she muttered darkly as she dusted herself off.

Thranduil glanced over his should, a salacious smile playing on his lips and his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Yes, but this way was much more fun. Now pick up the sword and we’ll try again.”

Charlotte mentally cursed him and retrieved the dropped sword, knowing that this night was going to be hell for her. As their training progressed through the night, Thranduil did indeed learn a few new colorful curse words, marvelling that for such an innocent looking lady, Charlotte could make even the hardiest dwarf blush!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review, fav and follow


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. Your lovely words of encouragement are greatly appreciated and put a huge smile on my face :D  
> Here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy.

 

Charlotte rolled of bed the next morning, letting out a groan as her muscles screamed in protest. Everything ached. She lifted her hand to brush her hair from her face, and paused when she noted the bruises on her wrist. Bruises that were a perfect match of the Elven king’s slender fingers. She stared in fascination at the marks and wondered briefly if he had left any more elsewhere?

She trudged to the bathroom and stripped off her pajamas, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She angled her body to get a better view, but could see no other marks on her body. She inspected her wrist again, lightly trailing the bruises with her fingertips. Thranduil had been careful not to hurt her last night, except where he had grabbed her wrist when she had swung the sword too wildly. She closed her eyes as the memory lanced through her mind like a forbidden caress.

_Time seemed to come to a standstill as she stared up at him with wide eyes, her pulse racing erratically at how close their bodies were pressed together. Thranduil stared down at her with those guarded electric blue eyes that were so unnatural, yet utterly captivating; a stillness coming over him like a veiled curtain as his hold on her wrist tightened fractionally. He let go of her abruptly and took a step back before ordering her to resume her attack, along with a few pointers. His demeanor was suddenly aloof and distant, and he had been extra cautious to maintain distance after that._

Charlotte shook her head at the memory and ran a hot bath, sinking into the water with an impassioned groan. It was a temporary relief, and she knew once she got out of the bath her muscles would be protesting painfully again at any movement. _God, I’m so out of shape,_ she thought as she rested her head against the rim of the cool porcelain tub.

But time waited for no man or woman and she would soon have to get ready for work. Towel wrapped securely around her, Charlotte made her way back to her room and dressed in black slacks and a lavender hued shirt with long sleeves to cover up the bruises. She did her makeup and decided to forgo straightening her hair. Even though it was a wild mess after she had washed it last night, her arms were just in no shape to be tackling it today.

With zombie-like shuffles, Charlotte made her way downstairs and paused when she entered the living room. Thranduil was standing at the living room window, silently watching as the rising sun splashed the horizon with hues of orange, red and gold like paint on a canvass.

Thranduil’s posture was tall and straight and he stood will eerie stillness with his hands clasped behind his back. Charlotte noted that he was wearing black jeans that molded perfectly to his lithe form, and a pale blue shirt that showed off his defined arms and torso.

Charlotte came to stand beside him and he briefly glanced down at her before turning his attention back to the vibrant imagery that painted the world anew and chased away the dark shadows of night.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her tone hushed as they watched the sunrise together.

“Home.”

It was said simply and matter-of-factly, but underneath Charlotte detected a hint of melancholy. And longing. She wordlessly reached out, and Thranduil dropped his hand into hers without a second thought.

“Is there no way you can contact Galadriel and find out what is going on?”

“I tried yesterday with no success. I daresay that she will make contact when she so feels inclined.”

That sounded rather unfair to Charlotte. “So in the meantime we just have to wait?”

Thranduil took a deep breath through his nose. “I am patient. I can wait.” He paused and cast his sights down to his little companion, his lips curling into a smile that matched the dark look that shadowed his features. “And when I return home I plan to give that meddlesome elleth a piece of my mind.”

Charlotte gave an involuntary shiver. She hoped she was never on the receiving end of Thranduil’s wrath, for she was sure his temper was just as formidable as his prowess on the battlefield.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he enquired politely after a lingering lull. Charlotte guessed that he wanted to keep his mind off of his lost home and people, and she decided to indulge him.

“Well, everything hurts and you left some bruises,” she stated, trying to come off as nonchalant.

Thranduil frowned as he cast his mind back to their sparring session. He raised her hand which was clutched in his own and gently pried back the sleeve of her shirt. His fingertips skimmed over the bruises, which stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin; his touch light and tentative that it sent her heart fluttering at a contact that felt far too intimate. Thranduil pulled the sleeve back down with care after a few moments and turned his attention back to the window, his face unreadable.

“So, how was my fighting? Do I have what it takes to become a mighty warrior?” she joked, trying to lighten the tension that had suddenly infiltrated the room.

Thranduil snorted. “Hardly,” he replied drily.

“Ah, well give me another seven thousand years and I might just be as good as you.”

Thranduil didn’t respond. In another seven thousand years Charlotte would be mere dust and bones in the ground. It was a disconcerting thought, leading his dark mood down an even more morose path.

“Hey,” she said softly, causing him to glance down at her. Her hazel eyes were swimming with a warm swirl of emotion, twinkling with a light that he had not seen in a very long time, at least not on his own face.

“I was joking. I doubt I could ever be as good as you,” she said, smiling up at him. “Though that won’t stop me from trying to kick your ass once in a while.”

Thranduil knew what Charlotte was trying to do, and he felt a twinge of gratitude for the distraction she was offering. She was proving to be his torch in these dark times; a balm for his battered soul. He would never admit it to her, but he had missed her the previous day when she had been absent, and he was loathe to let her go again today.

He lowered his head and said in voice that he knew to be seductively low, “No one has yet surpassed me in my extensive skills, Charlotte.”

She held his gaze, which was quite bold move on her part, he noted. “Depends…how extensive are your skills?” She raised a brow for emphasis.

A slow smile crept on his face. He should stop this foolish game right now, but with Charlotte he always wanted to see how far he could go with her.

“Very,” he murmured, and a sense of smugness enveloped him when her eyes widened and flickered to his mouth, her cheeks becoming tinged with pink. He abruptly straightened, clearly ending their little game, and turned to head towards the kitchen.

“In that case, you can straighten my hair,” she called after him. “Considering you are the cause of my pain.”

Without missing a beat he glanced over his shoulder, looking down his nose at her and said, “Not a chance, little one. I have grown used to your wild hair and I prefer you keep it that way.” He paused and a slow, promising smile crept on his features. “And I look forward to causing you more pain tonight!”

Charlotte gulped and then muttered a few choice words as she followed him into the kitchen, knowing he could hear her curses perfectly well judging by his low chuckle.

 

ooOoo

 

After breakfast of eggs and toast (which Thranduil made), Charlotte cleared the table, her muscles protesting every step of the way. Thranduil watched her movements with a hawk-like observation from his place at the table.

“If you are hurting too much, you could always stay home.”

Charlotte filled the sink with water, the fluffy soap suds multiplying on the surface. “I can’t, Thranduil, no matter how tempting that thought is. I have to stick to my routine so that Eric doesn’t become suspicious.”

“He’s already suspicious,” Thranduil pointed out.

“Yes, but I don’t want to give him a reason to act on his suspicions,” she replied, turning off the tap and sinking her hands into the warm water as she began washing up the dishes.

Thranduil drummed his fingers lightly against the wooden surface of the table, his eyes wandering around the homely kitchen.

“Did he ever hurt you, Charlotte?”

Charlotte paused and glanced over her shoulder, a plate clutched in her hand. “No, Eric never laid a hand on me.” She turned back and finished washing the plate before placing it on the drying rack. She grabbed a dish towel and dried her hands before turning to face him, leaning her back against the counter and her arms crossed over her chest. “Eric wasn’t always like this, Thranduil.”

Thranduil raised a disbelieving brow.

Charlotte smiled sadly and her gaze drifted to the wall behind him. “When we were younger and started dating, he was very much the boy-next-door. A very likeable, sweet guy. But when he joined the CIA, his personality started to change. He became more controlling and his temper was shorter. He slowly morphed into…what he is now.”

Charlotte shook her head and turned her gaze back to the Elven king. “Maybe he was always like that deep down, or maybe something happened at his job to change him. I don’t know.”

“It has been my experience that humans don’t suddenly change, Charlotte. They are just very good at hiding who they truly are. And right now Eric is a danger and you know in your heart that he will eventually resort to hurting you, otherwise you would not go to lengths to prepare for such an event.”

Charlotte stared back at Thranduil, who had his legs crossed and was leaning back against the chair with languid ease, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes bore into her, unblinking; his gaze holding her captive in both intensity as well as the truth that burned in those depths.

“I know,” she said and strode over to the package that rested on top of the counter. “And you’re right: I have made preparations.”

“What is that?” he asked, rising in one fluid motion and coming to stand beside her.

“A gift from Carl,” she replied, staring down at the package wrapped in plain brown paper.

“Who’s Carl?”

“A friend of my Dad’s. Carl is ex-military,” she explained as she ripped the wrapping off, revealing a plain black box. She lifted the lid and inside were two objects wrapped carefully in bubble wrap, along with a smaller box. Charlotte proceeded to take to bubble wrap off and held the gun in her hand, the weight reassuring and heavy in her hand. She glanced up at Thranduil. “Carl and my father were childhood friends, and he is like an uncle to me. He taught me how to fire a gun when I was ten years old, and when I called him yesterday and explained the situation with Eric, he left this for me.”

Thranduil stared down at what was obviously a weapon clasped in Charlotte’s hand. He turned his gaze to her and quirked a brow. “It doesn’t look particularly dangerous.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she put the gun back in the box and placed the lid back on. “No, it doesn’t, but believe me when I tell you that it can kill a person with one shot. I was thinking we could go target practising on Saturday.”

Thranduil eyed the box wearily. _That inconspicuous little thing couldn’t possibly be as dangerous as Charlotte was suggesting. Could it?_

“If your shooting skills are as atrocious as your fighting and cooking skills, I think I shall pass. Or at least keep a safe distance. A league or two should do.”

“Careful, Thranduil. I’ll use you as target practise.”

ooOoo

 

Charlotte left for work and Thranduil found himself quite alone in the suddenly silent house. He had done some exploring of the place the previous day and had found it quite nondescript. There were three bedrooms upstairs: Charlotte’s, his, and the other that had to be her late parents’ bedroom. Downstairs consisted of the kitchen that led into the living room and on the other side of the stairs was a room that was a study with a worn desk and bookshelves crammed with books that were well-read. Opposite the study was the dining room with a medium sized oak table and six chairs stationed around it and a threadbare floral rug. At the end of the hallway was a bathroom washed in white with two contraptions that he had no name for. They were large and cube shaped and when he had peeked inside, he had found them empty. He had meant to aske Charlotte about them, but had forgotten. _Maybe tonight._

He had been in Charlotte’s room the night Eric had arrived, but his mind had been focused on the unfolding events and he hadn’t taken much observation of her room. But when he had peeked in yesterday, he had found that it was very much something he would expect of Charlotte: messy. Clothes were tossed haphazardly on the floor, but at least her bed was made, so that accounted for something in his books. The bedding and curtains were lavender in color and the walls were painted an off cream color. Her bed was a sleigh bed similar to the one he was currently sleeping in, and there was a dresser that had a messy assortment of makeup and accessories strewn all over the top of it.

He made his way back to the living room and paused when he noted several books stacked on the coffee table. He picked one up and read the title: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. _Harry Potter? Ah yes, Charlotte had mentioned it during their walk_. Thranduil quirked a smile and molded into the armchair as he prepared to read. _It wasn’t like he had anything else to occupy his attention._

He glanced up at the wall clock and let out a soft sigh. It would still be several hours before Charlotte returned home. _Maybe he should train her twice as hard tonight so that by morning she would be too sore to move and have no choice but to remain here,_ he thought to himself as he settled in to read.

 

ooOoo

Charlotte kept glancing up at the clock in her office, the minutes dragging by in a slow procession. She was anxious for five to roll around so that she return home. _Not that she was desperate to see Thranduil – she just wanted to make sure he didn’t burn the place down._ She kept telling herself this little white lie until she almost believed it.

 There was a knock on her door and she looked up to see Clair, the secretary, standing there and looking slightly nervous.

“Sorry to bother you, Charlotte, but Eric is here,” she said in her far too sweet voice that belonged to a little girl rather than a grown woman. Other than her voice, Clair looked very much the immaculate adult that she was, from the neat bob she had her auburn hair styled into, to the pencil skirt and rose colored blouse she wore. Her green eyes were currently pinched with concern; Claire had been working here for as long as Charlotte had, and knew Eric and all the details about the breakup.

Charlotte stilled. _Should she let Eric in or should she send him on his way?_ Though, knowing Eric, he would just use his badge to get in anyway.

“Did he say what he wanted?”

Claire shook her head.

Charlotte sighed. _No, he wouldn’t make it that easy._ “Send him in, please.” Her palms suddenly felt clammy and her heart started hammering in her chest, though very differently from how it raced when she was in close proximity to the Elven king.

Claire hesitated. “I can call security if you want.”

Charlotte swallowed hard. “That won’t work, Claire.”

Claire shot her a sympathetic look, but left to grant Eric entrance. Soon Eric was standing in her doorway, a smile plastered on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“What do you want, Eric,” she asked, trying not to let her discomfort show.

Eric strolled in and sat down in the chair opposite her desk without invitation. He crossed his legs and steepled his fingers in front of her as he regarded his prey. “I came to see if you were okay.”

“You could have just called,” she pointed out.

“You have my number blocked.”

Charlotte didn’t have to voice it. Eric could have found another way to contact her. Him showing up here was a power play, and they both knew it.

Eric leaned forward, his eyes blazing with intent. “So, this mysterious man that is living with you...what do you know about him?”

“Why do you want to know?” Charlotte didn’t move a muscle as she held his gaze.

“Let me dig up what information I can about him. I need to know that he’s not some axe murderer and that you’ll be safe with him. I’m just concerned about your safety, Charlie.”

_I’m sure you are,_ Charlotte thought, but held her tongue.

“Just give me a name,” he pressed, his voice going as smooth as velvet as he tried to coax her.

“Maybe your concern should be on your family and not your ex. Why you are all of a sudden worried about me?”

Eric leaned back in the chair and ignored her first question. “Because you and I have a long history. I have your best interest at heart. Just give me a name.” He paused, and then added as an afterthought, “Please.”

Charlotte shook her head and pretended to busy herself with paperwork. “Would it make a difference if I told you that he is just a friend?”

“If he’s just a friend then there’s no harm in giving me a name,” he shot back.

Charlotte glanced up, her pen poised in her hand. Maybe she should give him a childhood friend’s name, but she didn’t want to drag some innocent bloke into this mess.

“No, Eric. Besides, he’ll be heading back home next week, so you can stop this little game or whatever you’re playing.”

She held her breath, hoping that he would take the bait.

His eyes hardened like flint steel and he stood slowly, his menace seeping into the air and becoming tangible. “You’d better be telling me the truth, Charlotte.”

Charlotte stood. “And I think you need to leave.”

His jaw clenched, but Eric finally turned and left, though it did little to ease her apprehension. Charlotte sat down in her leather office chair heavily and let out a weary sigh.

“Are you okay, Charlotte?” Claire asked, causing Charlotte to startle.

She tried to smile, but was sure it came out as a grimace. “Yeah…just the usual, Claire.”

Claire hesitated, but decided to leave her be.

Charlotte frowned. Eric surely knew he would not get an answer from her, so what had been his game plan. Charlotte stood and slowly came around the desk and dropped to her knees. Stuck under the desk was a tiny blinking device right in the corner that it would go unnoticed. _He had bugged her office_! Charlotte was about to snatch it off, but stopped. If Eric found out that she knew about the device, he would surely take more extreme measures. Charlotte knew she was going to have to be very careful about what she talked about, but maybe she might be able to use this to her advantage and maybe even feed Eric some lies. It might work and give her and Thranduil a little more time. Hopefully.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte entered the house just as Thranduil walked into the kitchen. He must have seen something on her features that alarmed him, because he was instantly in front of her, his strong hands clasping her shoulders.

“What happened?” he asked, his body taut with tension and concern shadowing his porcelain features.

“Eric showed up at my office today,” she replied.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his eyes roving over her face and seeking telltale signs.

“No, but he was eager for your name. And he bugged my office.”

Thranduil frowned.

“It means he planted a device that will allow him to listen in on my conversations,” she clarified.

His lips pressed together in a thin line. _He did not like the direction things were going with Eric._

Charlotte side stepped out of his grasp and went to the fridge, pulling out the bottle of wine. Thranduil raised a brow.

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I’m making an exception tonight.” She then reached up and opened the cupboard where the wine glasses were and tried to reach them on tippy-toes. Thranduil watched in amusement as she tried a few jumps without success.

He came up behind her and Charlotte instantly stilled when she felt him pressed against her back. He reached up and pulled out two glasses with no trouble at all, and placed them down in front of her. He leaned down and Charlotte’s eyes fluttered closed when she felt his warm breath tickle against her ear.

“All you have to do is ask, little one.”

Charlotte swallowed hard and opened her eyes before slowly turning around. Thranduil didn’t budge as they stared at each other, their bodies impalpably close. Charlotte was trying hard to keep things respectable between them, but Thranduil was making it impossible. _Did he even understand that he was borderline flirting with her? Sometimes it was hard to tell with him._

_Detract! Detract! Detract!_ her mind screamed at her. “Alright. Can I ask that we skip training tonight?”

Thranduil regarded her with smouldering intensity, and Charlotte held her breath when he casually reached behind her. She almost let out a disappointed sigh when he withdrew his hand and was now holding the bottle of wine. A shadow of a smug smile alighted his features as he turned and strolled towards the living room, calling over his shoulder, “I think that idea holds merit. Bring the glasses.”

Charlotte ran her hand down her face. _Dear Lord! Thranduil really needed to stop playing with her like this._ It was in that moment Charlotte realised that Thranduil was the cat and she the mouse that was being toyed with. Question was, what was he going to do when he decided that toying around with her wasn’t satisfactory enough?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, fave and follow :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - you guys are the absolute best with all your praise, and it has been a huge source of encouragement for me.  
> Here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it :)

Wednesday and Thursday passed without further incident from either Eric or the Elven King, who, Charlotte had noted, had settled quite comfortably in her life. Charlotte knew that this transition had not been easy for Thranduil, and she admired his stoic demeanor as he tried to make the best of his current situation. Or maybe he was just taking his frustrations out on her during their training; he certainly was a formidable and strict teacher.

Today marked a week since his whirlwind arrival, and Charlotte had to admit that it felt much longer than that. It was as though he had slotted right into her life like the piece that had always been missing. It was a disconcerting notion, but Charlotte felt comfortable and at ease with him. She had never experienced anything like this with anybody else, at least not enough to truly be herself, and part of her dreaded the day when he would depart. A selfish part of her hoped that Galadriel had no plans to whisk him away any time soon.

Charlotte sat at her desk, drumming her pen against a stack of paper, her cheek resting in the palm of her hand. Her eyes flickered up to the wall clock for what must have been the twentieth time in the last five minutes. She still had thirty minutes until it was time to head back home, but the time seemed to be dragging at a snail’s pace, reluctant to increase in speed.

Her gaze shifted to the spot on the desk where she knew the bug was planted. Eric must be absolutely bored from the lack of information he was receiving from it, and Charlotte decided it was time to plant some misleading information. Hopefully he would back off once her ‘friend’ left.

Charlotte opened her drawer and fished out her regular cellphone. The other one was currently safe in her handbag, and would only be used if the situation became dire enough and she needed Carl’s help.

She punched in a few numbers and pretended to listen for someone to pick up on the other side.

“Hi Jeff,” she said in a cheerfully sweet voice, and paused for a few moments. She had chosen the name Jeff as it could be a short variation of Jeffrey, or it could just be Jeff, and it would take Eric a while to search in his database for anyone associated with her with either name. Not that he would find anything, but at least it would keep him busy for a while and, in turn, hopefully cause him some frustration along the way.

“I’ll pick up some pizza. I figured we could watch a movie tonight.” Another lull. “Okay, sounds great. It’s such a pity you’re leaving tomorrow. I really enjoyed having you over.” Pause. “Okay. See ya later!” Charlotte practically sang and ended the pretend call. She smirked to herself. _Let Eric have a field day with that!_

Finally the work day ended and Charlotte shut down her computer, grabbing her handbag before bolting out of the office.

She stopped in at a local pizzeria and placed an order for an extra-large pizza, cheesy garlic bread and a Caesar salad. She went to sit down at one of the small square tables, the white vinyl top cracked and worn from years of use. She waited patiently for her order, her eyes drifting to the overhead specials on display and her subconscious trying to block out the crackly music drifting from the cheap speakers. This place was in desperate need of a makeover, but they made a damn good pizza, so all of this was easily overlooked.

“I’ll have a number three special,” came a familiar voice from the counter and Charlotte instantly stilled, her head snapping up to the direction of the voice. There stood Eric, dressed immaculately in his black suit and polished dress shoes. His back was turned to her, but there was no mistaking that it was him.

Eric paid for his order and turned around, feigning surprise when he spotted Charlotte, and plastered a fake smile on his face before making his way towards her. Charlotte sat absolutely still on the hard red chair, her heart hammering in her chest. _This was not good._

“Charlie, what a lovely surprise to see you here,” he drawled, flashing his brilliant white teeth.

Charlotte swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She had hoped her fake phone call had been enough to satisfy him, but it seemed as though Eric was determined to find out more, or maybe monitor her until he was satisfied that her ‘friend’ had indeed left for good.

“Are you following me?” she asked, cringing inwardly at the tremor in her voice.

“Of course not. I merely decided to stop for a pizza and happened to bump into you here, Charlie.”

“Please don’t call me that,” she muttered, her eyes flickering past him and to the counter. _What was taking them so long?_

Eric ignored her request and sat down with aplomb opposite her, folding his arms in front of him on the small table as he leaned forward with a predatory glean on his face. Charlotte leaned back in her chair, trying desperately to keep as far from his reach as she could. A cold smirk spread on his face as he noted her discomfort.

“So how is your friend? What was his name? Fred? Ted?” Eric paused as he made a dramatic show of thinking about it. Then he snapped his fingers and said, “Jeff! So how is your friend, Jeff?”

Charlotte feigned shocked surprise. “How do you know his name?”

“I have a ways of finding out what I need to know.” Eric leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes narrowed in on her with a dangerous glint. “So Jeff is leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice going hoarse and she resisted the urge to squirm.

“Good,” Eric said, nodding his head in satisfaction. Then in a lightning quick move he reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. “You’d better be telling me the truth, Charlie.”

Charlotte gasped as pain shot through her wrist as his grip tightened, and she was suddenly, and painfully, aware that Eric could snap her wrist in a single move.

“You’re hurting me, Eric,” she whimpered.

“I’ll do more than that if Jeff is not gone by tomorrow. In fact, make sure he is gone by tonight,” Eric snarled before releasing her wrist with a jerk, causing Charlotte to slump back hard in her seat. She instinctively cradled her throbbing wrist to her chest.

Eric stood, the chair scraping sharply on the grey tiled floor, and Charlotte shrunk back as he towered over her.

“Tonight, Charlie,” he warned before turning on his heel and exiting the pizzeria, his pizza order clearly inconsequential.

Charlotte sat there in stunned silence, her heart beating rapidly in the confines of her chest. With trembling hands, she reached in her purse and, after a cautionary glance around, she used the prepaid cellphone to send Carl a text.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte parked the car in the garage and killed the engine. She sat there for a few moments, her hands still clutching the steering wheel tightly as she stared aimlessly at the dash, breathing deeply.

A light rap on the window caused Charlotte to startle, and she glanced over to see Thranduil peering in at her, a slight frown etched on his thick brows.

She grabbed the pizza box and bag that held the cheesy garlic bread and Caesar salad, along with her hand bag, and swung open the car door. Thranduil took the proffered items, silently observing the little human as she shut the door and wordlessly made her way into the house.

Thranduil followed close behind her and shut the door before setting the items on the counter. He turned his attention to her, his sharp gaze observant as Charlotte shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her boots. She was refusing to meet his gaze, and her face looked drawn and…scared. As soon as he realised this, he instantly became on alert. _Something had happened…_

“Charlotte?”

She stilled, and then breathed out a shaky sigh.

“What happened?” Thranduil pressed, coming to stand in front of her. He laid a hand on her shoulder and when she flinched at the touch, he felt his heart start to hammer in his chest.

“Look at me, little one,” he urged, his tone soft and reassuring.

Charlotte slowly lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes wide and expressive with her fear.

Thranduil raised his hands to cup her face. “What happened?”

Charlotte swallowed thickly, tears now brimming in her eyes. “Eric.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Charlotte lowered her gaze. “Yes.”

Thranduil felt the very blood in his veins freeze to ice.

“Show me,” he ordered, his tone clipped.

Charlotte shakily raised her arm, showing the bruises that were already forming. Thranduil dropped his hands to her arm, gently cradling her wrist in his hands and peering intently at the angry marks. His fingertips skimmed over them and he was silent for so long that Charlotte wondered if her was ever going to say something.

“You do realise that I’m going to kill Eric if I ever lay eyes on him again,” he growled, his voice strained with held back fury.

Thranduil glanced up in time to see the lone tear fall from her lashes and trickle down Charlotte’s pale cheek. Thranduil lowered her arm and lifted his hands to cup her face again, tenderly wiping away the tear with his thumb. Her bottom lip quivered with the effort to keep her emotions under control, but it was proving too hard for her and she let out a helpless sob.

Charlotte was immediately ensconced in Thranduil’s protective arms, his chin resting on the crown of her head. Charlotte clutched at the material of his shirt like a lifeline, her cheek pressed against his chest as she cried the most silent tears he had ever witnessed, the slight tremble in her body the only indication that she was weeping.

Charlotte finally pulled back and wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Her makeup was smeared across her cheeks and her eyes were puffy and red. And yet, despite all this, Thranduil felt Charlotte had never looked more beautiful than in this imperfect moment.

“Tell me what happened,” he said slowly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Charlotte puffed out her cheeks as she let out a deep breath. She leaned back against the counter for support and haltingly retold the encounter to the Elven king. Thranduil silently and patiently listened, his blood boiling with untempered rage as her story unfolded.

“I contacted Carl. He is going to send someone over to act as you and I am to order a taxi for him to get to the airport. Hopefully Eric will follow and see the drop off and that will be the end of that.”

Thranduil didn’t want to burst her hopes, but this was far from over. Eric had deemed that he did not want Charlotte, but he did not want anyone else to have her either, and he had proved what lengths he would go to ensure that. No, Charlotte would never be free of him, no matter how far or for how long she ran. And judging by the look on her face, Charlotte knew this, too.

There was a ping from her handbag and Charlotte went over to it to retrieve the cellphone from its depths. She read the message, her posture relaxing somewhat.

“Carl says the decoy will be here in an hour.”

Thranduil gave an imperceptible nod and watched with a guarded gaze as Charlotte made her way to the living room, the pizza forgotten on the counter.

He had thought that being sent here was a test of sorts, but now he was starting to wonder… _maybe he was sent here because of Charlotte_. There was no denying in his heart that he had grown rather attached to her, and he would protect Charlotte with every fibre of his being, but there was no way of knowing Galadriel’s true motives.

Thranduil sighed and followed Charlotte into the living room. She was seated on the sofa, her knees drawn up to her chest and her face visibly pale and pinched. Thranduil sat down next to her, taking her ice cold hand in his own as they sat in eerie silence, each lost in their thoughts.

Close to an hour later, there was a soft knock on the back door. Charlotte bolted from the sofa like a skittish animal and glanced at Thranduil with wild eyes.

“You’d better go and hide.”

Thranduil stood in a fluid motion. “Can you trust this man?” he asked, facing her.

“Carl trusts him, so that’s good enough for me,” she stated sincerely.

After a hesitant pause, Thranduil nodded and went upstairs. He stayed hidden in the shadows, his hearing sharpening as he strained to listen to the conversation that ensued. He was still on edge, his body taut and ready to spring into action should any harm come to his little Charlotte.

Charlotte nervously opened the door to reveal a tall and well defined man standing on her doorstep. He was clearly military and young looking, his sandy blonde hair buzzed short and his strong jaw clean shaven. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a black leather jacket and combat black boots.

“Hello, Miss Wright,” he greeted politely. “I am here on orders from Carl Sanders, Ma’am.”

Charlotte gave him a tight smile and stepped aside to allow him entrance. He marched in and stood in the middle of the room, a rucksack clutched in his hand. He turned intelligent brown eyes her way and, as though sensing her nervousness, decided to take the lead.

“If you would kindly call the taxi, I will be on my way, Ma’am.”

“Yes, of course,” she murmured, feeling rather flustered, and went to dial the taxi. After ending the call she turned to the young soldier. “They will be here in thirty minutes…Sorry, I don’t even know your name.”

“Tonight, I will be known as Jeff Humphries, though I am normally known as Thomas Downing, Ma’am.”

“Thank you for doing this, Thomas. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, Ma’am. I’m just doing my duty.”

“Did…did Carl explain the situation?” she asked, wringing her hands together.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Thomas’ face softened in sympathy, but he said nothing further on the subject.

Charlotte led Thomas to the living room and they waited in awkward silence for the taxi to arrive. When the taxi finally came, Charlotte stood in the front doorway and watched as Thomas climbed into it and left without another word. Her eyes scanned the outcropping of trees and wondered if Eric was hidden somewhere, surveying ‘Jeff’s’ departure? The thought alone was enough to send cold shivers of fear running down her spine.

Charlotte closed and bolted the door and then proceeded to check the back door and windows to ensure each were secure. Not that it would stop Eric, though, but her mind was screaming at her to take precautions.

She startled when she felt a warm and calloused hand slip into her own and she glanced up into the icy blue depths of the mysterious elf.

“You should eat something.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I’ve lost my appetite, Thranduil. I…I think I’ll take a shower instead.”

She abruptly made her way to the bathroom and was soon standing under the pelting water of the hot shower, letting it wash away some of the tension; though it did little to ease the sickening feeling nestled in the pit of her stomach.

Afterwards, Charlotte donned her fuzziest pajamas, which were red and had Minnie Mouse plastered all over them. She entered the kitchen to find Thranduil seated at the table, half the pizza already devoured, and she felt a thin smile grace her face. He would deny it, but she knew he had grown a fondness for pizza. She also noted with appreciation that there was a mug of tea waiting for her, and a glass of wine for himself.

“Do you think the ruse will work?” he enquired, reaching over to take her hand in his own once she had settle in the chair next to him.

“God, I hope so.”

The sound of her phone ringing broke all further conversation and Charlotte went to retrieve it off the counter.

“Hello?”

“I see you sent Jeff Humphries to the airport like I asked. Good girl,” Eric’s cold voice said from the other end.

Charlotte paled and Thranduil was instantly out of his chair and by her side, his hand placed protectively on the small of her back.

“I don’t want to see him at your house ever again. Do you understand me?”

Her whole body trembled at the threat that laced his words. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Good!” With that the line went dead.

Charlotte slowly lifted her wide-eyed and terror-filled gaze to Thranduil, who had clearly heard every word. He plucked the phone from her trembling hand and laid it on the counter before pulling her against his chest, his hand smoothing down her hair in gentle strokes. She could feel his heart beating sure and steady against her ear, a comforting sound that eased her inner turmoil.

Charlotte didn’t know how long they stood there, but Thranduil held her until she finally pulled away, markedly calmed down.

“I think that should appease Eric for a while. At least get him off our case for a bit.” Charlotte paused. “I, uh, think I’ll go and try and get some sleep.”

Thranduil regarded her, but said nothing as she made her way to her bedroom.

Charlotte lay in her bed for what felt like hours, sleep elusive as fear consumed her. Finally she flung back the covers and padded downstairs to do something, anything, to keep her mind off of the day’s events.

She stilled when she noted Thranduil’s silhouette by the living room window, intently watching through the small gap in the curtains. All the lights had been turned off and the room was shrouded in darkness.

“Are you watching for Eric?”

“Yes,” he said without turning around.

“Do you see…anything?” she asked, coming to stand beside him.

“No. There has been no sound of a vehicle, either. I think that the ruse worked and Eric is leaving you alone…for the time being,” he said calmly, though Charlotte could practically feel the tension radiating off of him.

Thranduil finally turned to gaze down at her. “Did you have trouble sleeping?”

Charlotte ran her hand through her tangled waves and winced when her fingers snagged in a knot. “Yeah.”

Thranduil paused, deliberating, and then strode to the kitchen, returning shortly with his cloak. He sat down on the sofa and patted the spot beside him, a silent invitation.

Charlotte hesitated for a split second, but decided to take him up on his offer. Thranduil was the calm to her storm, and she knew, no trusted, she would be safe in his arms. Charlotte hesitatingly snuggled against him, tentatively placing her arm around his middle and resting her head against his chest. Thranduil tucked his arm securely around her and drew her closer, draping his cloak around her diminutive form.

“Sleep, little one. I will keep you safe,” he murmured.

Tension still vibrated through her being, and Thranduil decided to sing a song of his people. The melodic tones drifted from his lips, washing over the tense human clinging to him, but it was working. He gradually felt the tension leave her body as she relaxed against him, the song of two lovers meeting drifting to her very soul. Charlotte could not understand a word of it, but the beautiful elvish words filled her heart with something akin to hope and calm.

Thranduil glanced down when a soft snore sounded against his ribs, and he smiled down fondly at the sleeping Charlotte. He shifted to lay her down on the couch, his intention to stand guard over her for the rest of the night, but she clung tightly to him and murmured, “Stay.”

Thranduil blinked, an unidentifiable emotion coursing through him, and he could not deny that he _did_ want to stay. Before he could think it through and come up with an excuse, he lay down next to her and pulled her close to him. She let out a contented sigh as she snuggled closer, and for the first time in a long time, Thranduil felt an inner peace envelope him. It wasn’t long before his lids grew heavy and he joined Charlotte in sleep.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte’s eyelids fluttered open, her body and mind feeling well-rested, considering. Something nagged at the back of her mind, but she could not recall at that very moment what it was. Then she stilled as her sleepy brain focused and she found that she was nestled against Thranduil, her arm draped over his middle and his arm wrapped securely around her. With crystal clear comprehension, Charlotte realised that her legs were tangled with his longer ones, and she was effectively pinned in place. Her pulse sped up at how close, and intimately, they were moulded together.

She raised her head slightly, and her breath caught when her eyes met the intense electric blue of his own. _How long had he been watching her?_

“Good morning, little one,” he said, his usually deep voice a soft caressing murmur. “How did you sleep?”

“Surprisingly…good,” she replied, unable to meet his gaze.

His thumb skimmed over the small of her back where the pajama top had ridden up, and a shiver coursed through her body, her breath hitching in her throat. _Oh God! This was too much,_ she thought, anxiety building up in her like a tidal wave. _This has to stop before we cross a point of no return._ Charlotte hastily pushed away from Thranduil and struggled to untangle her legs from his as she vainly tried to get up. She fell to the floor with a _thump_ and immediately scrambled to her feet, clearly flustered

“Yes, that you did. You even drooled all over my shirt,” he stated, unperturbed by her actions, and sat up with all the grace she was lacking.

Charlotte glanced up, horrified. “What?!” she squeaked. She sincerely hoped that he was teasing, but the dark spot on his shirt told another tale. She felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Um, give me the shirt and I’ll put it in the wash,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

Thranduil raised a brow, and Charlotte realised her mistake too late. Thranduil gripped the edge of his shirt and slowly pulled it over his head like an erotic striptease.

Charlotte was sure her jaw hit the floor as her eyes raked over the smooth expanse of his pale chest, the muscles lean and defined like a chiselled statue. His jeans had ridden low, revealing the deep V of his hips that vanished into the waistbands of his jeans. The heat in her cheeks intensified, and she dragged her gaze upwards and met his eyes, noting the playful light dancing within them.

Thranduil slowly closed the distance and Charlotte stilled, her eyes widening as he neared her. Her gaze flickered down to his chest, smooth and perfect, and she felt her mouth go suddenly dry.

“You really need to think things through, little one, or you might get more than you asked for,” he said in his low deep voice, his smile widening to show his dimples. He pushed the shirt into her hands and walked casually past her, as though he were unaffected by all that had transpired.

All Charlotte could do was stand numbly rooted to the spot, and she was sure her brain had fried a circuit or something. She swallowed hard, Thranduil’s perfect form still clear in her mind and the simmering promise intent in his mesmerising blue eyes. _Dear God! She was doomed!_

Shaking herself from her daze, Charlotte made her way upstairs to collect the laundry hampers, grabbing the hamper from her room and then pausing awkwardly at Thranduil’s door. Taking a deep breath, she gave a sharp rap on the wood.

“Thranduil, can you give me your laundry hamper, please?”

The door opened and Charlotte was relieved to find that the Elven king was fully dressed in a plain black cotton shirt and black jeans, the color beautifully contrasting with the silver-white of his long sleek hair. He glanced at the basket balanced on her hip and he turned to retrieve the one in his room.

“Lead on,” he said.

Charlotte blinked, surprised that he wanted to help, but turned without another word and made her way to the downstairs bathroom where the washer and dryer were located.

Thranduil paused in the doorway and watched as Charlotte loaded the clothes into the machine.

“What are those?”

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. “A washer and dryer. The washer cleans the clothes and the dryer, well, dries the clothes.”

Thranduil came to stand beside her, watching with keen interest as she took his hamper and piled the clothes in with hers. She then added the laundry detergent and fabric softener into the allocated slots and turned the knob to the right setting before pushing the button to start the machine.

“Should be ready in forty minutes, and then I’ll put the clothes in the dryer.”

“Quite innovative,” he mused, clearly impressed.

Charlotte frowned. “Is laundry washed by hand back in your world?”

Thranduil blinked and then finally met her gaze. “Honestly, I do not know. Laundry is not something that I have had any experience with.”

Charlotte let out a low chuckle and poked him in the ribs. “I think we’ve found something that you’re not good at doing,” she teased, her tongue peeking between her teeth as she grinned widely at him.

“Only one? I consider that quite the accomplishment,” he replied and poked her in the ribs in return. Charlotte squealed and stepped back from him.

“Are you ticklish, little one?”

“No!” she instantly lied, her hands held up in defense.

Thranduil stepped forward and she took another hasty step back. “I think you are.”

“Thranduil,” she warned. “Don’t you dare!”

His grin widened. “It seems I have found your week spot, not to mention that I have you cornered.” He bent at the waist, his hands clasped behind his back and said in a seductively low voice, “You are completely at my mercy, little one.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened as her pulse quickened. _Yes, she was at his mercy, and she knew that if he ever made a bold move, she would succumb and barely put up a fight. Yup, she was doomed._

 

ooOoo

 

Two hours later Charlotte bought the laundry to the living room to fold. Thranduil was seated in his armchair, immersed in reading one of the Harry Potter books. Charlotte had made no comment, but he had noted the smug smile when she saw that he was reading them.

He glanced over the top and slowly lowered the book as something caught his eye.

“What is that?” he enquired.

“What?” Charlotte asked in confusion, glancing around.

Thranduil snatched up an item and Charlotte’s eyes widened like saucers when she saw what was dangling from his finger: her lacy black thong.

Charlotte jumped up to snatch it back, her cheeks flaming, but Thranduil much was quicker. He was instantly up, dangling the underwear above her head and out of reach.

“Thranduil give it back!” she growled, jumping to try and retrieve it. It was useless, though. The Eleven king was much too tall. And vindictive.

A slow smile spread on his face. “First tell me what it is.”

Charlotte lowered her gaze and huffed out a frustrated breath. “It’s underwear.”

Thranduil frowned and turned his gaze back to the item. “Really?”

If Charlotte thought she was embarrassed, it was nothing compared to the mortification she felt when Thranduil proceeded to stretch the thong between his fingers, his quizzical gaze trying to make sense of it.

He looked back down at her. “By the Valar, how do you get it on? There’s barely enough material on it to cover…anything.”

Charlotte groaned and covered her face with her hands. _Nope. She absolutely refused to explain THAT to him._

“And what is this?”

Charlotte peeked through her fingers and gasped when she saw her matching bra now dangling from his finger.

He turned the bra this way and that and finally glanced at her, a brow raised. “Dare I ask?”

Charlotte shook her head, her hair flying around her face. _Nope. Big nope._ She mumbled some excuse about making lunch and made a hasty exit, much to the concealed amusement of the Elven king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, fave and follow :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to everyone who has left such wonderful reviews on this story. I can't begin to express how inspirational your kind words have been. So thank you once again for all your support.  
> Here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it :)

Charlotte made a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches, her cheeks still flaming as she slapped the bread together, cutting them in half with more force than necessary. _What the hell?! Thranduil, an elf and a king, had just been handling her underwear! And he had acted as though it had totally unaffected him._ She paused, thinking about it. The type of underwear worn in this world must be such an oddity to someone like Thranduil, and she briefly pondered what they must look like back in Middle Earth. Her mind came up with images of Granny panties, and she shuddered. _No wonder he had seemed so perplexed._

She turned around to call Thranduil and let out a gasp, scrambling back like a startled cat. Her back hit the edge of the counter and she clutched at her chest, her frantically beating heart hammering beneath her palm. If the air hadn’t left her lungs, she was sure she would have let out a strangled screech to make any battle-worn feline proud. Thranduil was standing mere inches from her, his one brow arched superciliously, though his face betrayed no other emotion - except maybe the flicker of amusement that flashed through his eyes.

“Did I startle you?” he asked in a tone that belied that he knew full well that he had, indeed, done so. Maybe it was what he had been aiming for.

“I need to get you some bells,” Charlotte hissed. “It’s unnerving how quiet you are.”

“And where would the fun be in that if I could not sneak up on you?” he smirked.

Charlotte shook her head and turned to pick up the plates; one sandwich for her and the other three for Thranduil.

“Lunch is ready,” she stated, handing Thranduil his plate and making her way to the table. She glanced up and watched as Thranduil lift the top layer of bread, his lip slowly curling back into that of distaste. Obviously sandwiches were not up to par with his high standards.

“Either you intend to starve me or poison me,” he murmured, letting the bread limply fall back into place.

“I’m leaning towards poisoning. It’s quicker,” she retorted before taking a bite of her sandwich.

Thranduil’s eyes flickered to her and a smile graced his features, noting that she was still annoyed at him.

“I think you may succeed where others have failed, little one,” he stated as he came to sit next to her. “You are by far surpassing my initial assessment of your culinary skills, which is saying a lot.”

 Charlotte shot him a withering glare, which he pointedly ignored.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte carefully placed the empty wine bottles in a bag, noting that there were seven in total. She eyed Thranduil, who was currently throwing his cloak over his shoulders and diligently trying to fasten it.

“You’ve gone through seven bottles of wine in less than a week,” she expressed.

“Yes, and I’m currently working through the eighth bottle,” he replied distractedly, still fiddling with the clasp.

Charlotte shook her head and came to stand before him, reaching up and lightly swatting his hands away. Thranduil raised a brow, but dropped his hands to his side and graciously allowed her assistance. Not that she was giving him much choice.

He gazed down at the diminutive human with her head of unruly tresses, and noted with fascination the way her brows furrowed and her nose crinkled slightly as she concentrated on the task at hand. Thranduil found himself being drawn to the light that was purely Charlotte and he watched her with molten intensity, his eyes memorising every aspect of her face.

“But…you never seem to be drunk,” she mused, finally fastening the blasted clasp. Her eyes flickered upwards and Charlotte stilled when she noted that he was staring at her with a darkened gaze, like a predator would its prey. She swallowed and took a step back.

“I have a high constitution,” he explained, folding his arms in front of him. “Though I would hardly call _that_ wine.”

“Any of those bottles would have a normal person drunk.”

Thranduil ducked his head, his hair falling like silken sheets around his face, and a playful light danced in his hypnotic stare. “I am no human, Charlotte.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Yes, a fact I am painfully aware of, Thranduil,” she retorted. “Your elfy ears give it away.”

“ _Elfy ears?”_ he asked with a hint of incredulousness lacing his deep voice as Charlotte proceeded to shrug on her jacket and pull on her boots.

Charlotte tucked her thick hair under her white knit hat and turned her attention to him once more, grinning. “Yes, _elfy ears._ ”

Thranduil’s gaze narrowed fractionally. “Well, then. All the better to hear you with, my dear.”

Charlotte spluttered in surprise. “Really? Little Red Riding Hood? Where did you come across _that_?”

“Cartoon channel,” he replied evenly. “Some shows, I might add, should never have been created.”

Charlotte burst out laughing. “What show did you have the misfortune of watching?”

“Teletubbies.” He visibly shuddered. “Such an abomination.”

She doubled over in laughter. _This was too much!_

“If you’re quite finished laughing at my expense, shall we proceed?”

Charlotte composed herself, though her cheeks were aching from the wide grin set firmly in place, and gave him a nod. She turned around and lifted the bag containing the bottles, startling when she felt warm fingers curl around her own. She glanced up in surprise when the Elven king proceeded to take the bag from her grasp. _Well, at least they were still gentlemanly in Middle Earth,_ she thought to herself.

“Lead on,” he said without elucidation.

Charlotte nodded and grabbed the box holding the guns from the counter before they made their way to the back yard. The lawn was carpeted in a light dusting of white snow and the trees, standing like sentient guards, stood tall and bare; their spindly branches reaching out as though begging for a reprieve from the cold. The air was still, with no hint of a breeze, but this did not deflect from the sense of barrenness that enveloped the landscape.

Up ahead, just on the outskirts of the woods, were a row of stumps; remnants of her father’s compulsion to collect firewood. He had always stated that it was best to be prepared, especially out in the country, and firewood was one of the things he considered a necessity. All the logs he had procured were currently stacked in neat piles in a little shed off to the side.

Charlotte retrieved the bag from Thranduil and went to place a bottle on each of the logs. As she made her way back to him, Thranduil noted the determination set on her face, especially when she opened the box and took out the two guns. A growing sense of trepidation unfurled within him as he watched Charlotte press a small button on the side of one of the guns and the bottom chamber released. She then pulled it out and loaded the bullets in the magazine before slotting it back with a _click_. It was now plainly obvious that Charlotte knew how to handle this weapon well, and Thranduil didn’t quite know how to feel about this.

Granted, the elves that made up his Royal Guard were both male and female, and he did not begrudge an elleth learning the art of fighting; after all, it was a lifesaving and practical skill. But seeing Charlotte with this…distasteful weapon clutched in her small hands unnerved him. In his eyes, she was innocent. Not a woman who should know what it feels like to have hot blood spilled on her hands - not that he actually thought Charlotte had ever taken a life. No, she was untainted, and a protective part of him wanted nothing more than to shelter her from such a fate.

“Oh, before we begin, you’re going to need these,” Charlotte said, reaching into her jacket pocket and producing four bright yellow little tube things. “Ear Plugs,” she explained at his confused glance.

Thranduil’s cold gaze flickered down at the ear plugs nestled in her palm. “Are they necessary?”

“Yes,” she stated firmly. “Guns are really loud, Thranduil, and if what is written in the books is to be believed, then elven hearing is on par with that of a dog.”

“Are you comparing me to a dog?”

Charlotte’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Be a good boy and I might scratch your ears.”

Thranduil lifted his hand to run his fingertip over the sensitive tip of his right ear - it was only the past couple of days that it had stopped throbbing. “Which reminds me, did you try to pull my ear off the day I arrived here?”

Charlotte flushed guiltily and quickly glanced away. She toed the powdery white snow with the tip of her boot and mumbled, “Maybe.”

“Hmm, I thought so,” he muttered. _Payback was in order,_ he thought to himself.

“In my defense, I thought they were fake.”

Thranduil remained unnervingly silent, his face an unreadable mask. Charlotte took a deep breath and tried to offer him the ear plugs once again.

“No, thanks,” he said haughtily. “I prefer not to have any of my senses dulled.”

“Are you sure?” A nervous look shadowed her face.

“I am. Now proceed,” he replied curtly, tucking his hands behind his arrow-straight back.

Charlotte hesitated, but inserted her ear plugs and turned around to face the bottle targets. She took a deep breath and let it out, positioning her stance. On the next inhale she raised the gun with extended arms, sighting down the barrel; her focus narrowing and sharpening. She slowly let out the breath she was holding and fired.

The cacophonic _bang_ echoed all around, though the sound was muffled by her ear plugs. The bottle shattered instantaneously and Charlotte lowered the gun, grinning proudly that she had hit it even after having missed a few years of practise.

She turned around to gloat to Thranduil and gaped openly at the sight before her. Thranduil had fallen back on his arse on the cold, hard ground and was utterly still, except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were exceptionally wide as they stared straight ahead, and there was no mistaking the alarm that swirled in those depths.

Charlotte immediately clicked on the safety and tucked the gun in the waistband of her pants at the small of her back. Slowly she inched towards Thranduil and crouched down beside him. His head immediately snapped in her direction and she held her hands up in placation in front of her to show that she no longer had the weapon in her hands.

“Hey, are you okay, Thranduil?” she asked soothingly, as though she were trying to calm a skittish animal.

Thranduil blinked slowly, as though in a daze, and shook his head a few times. He then rubbed at his ears, and Charlotte realised that they must be ringing quite spectacularly.

“Thranduil?” she asked again. She reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder, and had to blink back the hurt she felt when he recoiled at her touch. He stood swiftly, his movements fluid and pliant, though his stance, as he glared down at her, was rigid and radiating deep tension.

Charlotte stood as well and stared back at the Elven king with caution. There was no doubt in her mind that he was angry. And the way his eyes bore into hers, it seemed that his anger was directed at her.

“How can you feel so comfortable handling such a destructive weapon?” Thranduil hissed.

Charlotte gulped as she faced the onslaught of his wrath, and stood there mutely, unable to form a coherent word.

Thranduil’s glare became hard and icy. “From what I have seen of your world, you humans are nothing but destructive. You lack all morals and you clearly hold no value to the sanctity of life. It is so easy for you to pull the trigger and kill innocents without any remorse or a second thought!”

Thranduil paused, his luminous face becoming the very picture of an oncoming storm. “I had thought you different Charlotte, but clearly I was mistaken. You are no better than the rest of your race if you can be so comfortable around the violence and destruction that the weapon in your hand wields.”

“That’s not fair, Thranduil. You don’t understand…” she tried to protest.

“Oh, I understand perfectly. Do not think I have been idle, Charlotte. I have watched the news on the T.V and I have seen all the wars being waged in your world. You humans are so quick to kill. So quick to slaughter your own kind.”

Anger started to curl around her heart like a poisonous creeping vine. “How dare you compare me to some cold-hearted killer, Thranduil! You know perfectly well that I procured the guns so that I could protect us from Eric! Because you can bet your sweet ass that Eric will have guns of his own. And he will not hesitate to use them.”

Thranduil’s electric blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, but Charlotte barrelled on. “And how can you judge? You have killed plenty.”

Thranduil was instantly in front of her, bent at the waist so that his face was at eye level with hers. “Yes, I have killed,” he spat. “But I have never slaughtered my own kind. The blood I have on my hands is that of the dark and foul enemy.”

Thranduil snapped his spine straight and took a step back. When he spoke again his voice was low and calm, which made him even scarier than before. “This world and all its inhabitants are like nothing I have encountered before. So much bloodshed and destruction at every turn.” His eyes bore into her when he spoke again. “And you have proven that you are no different!”

Tears welled in her eyes at this cutting accusation. She wanted to shout back, fight back, but all words eluded her; so stunned was she at this personal attack.

Thranduil threw her a look of disgust before storming off, his cloak billowing around him like the dark storm that was brewing within. Charlotte watched helplessly as he disappeared like a phantom into the woods, and she hung her head, her heart aching at something that had been broken between them. _How had things gone so horribly wrong?_

Charlotte took a shuddering breath. _What the hell had just happened? His outburst made no sense at all…or did it?_ With a dawning realisation, Charlotte had to conclude that this had been the straw that had broken the camel’s back. Thranduil had worked exceedingly hard to keep it together since his arrival here, and had bottled up all his resentment, anger, fear and distress. But now it had all reached a boiling point. And she had, unfortunately, been in the line of fire. _But that gave him no excuse to treat her the way he just did_ , she fumed. Charlotte clenched her jaw and grabbed the box holding the guns before storming back into the house, slamming the door shut behind her with more force than necessary.

Charlotte placed the gun that was in her waistband back in the box and leaned against the counter, breathing hard and her temper threatening to bubble over. If she didn’t do something now to dissipate the anger, she was going to let it fester until she lashed out.

She marched over to the stereo in the living room and cranked the music at high volume, deciding now would be a good time as any to tackle some cleaning. Hopefully it would help work off some of her frustration.

 

ooOoo

 

Two hours later the house was clean. Well, cleaner than normal. Charlotte had decided to leave Thranduil’s room for last, and was unsurprised to find it pristine looking when she entered. The bed was made and dirty clothes were in the hamper. There was not even a stray sock lying on the floor. _Clean freak,_ she thought. She was about to turn away, when a familiar sketchpad on the bedside table caught her eye. Charlotte picked it up and noted that it was one of her old sketchpads from art class, way back in high school. Thranduil must have found it in one of the boxes down in the basement. Her mother had been notoriously sentimental and refused to throw away anything. Hence all the boxes downstairs.

Charlotte flipped over the cover and smiled amusedly at her failed attempt at drawing a rose. She flipped the next page, and her body stilled when she saw that the rose had been replicated, but more artfully and perfect looking. This was not her handiwork, so that must mean…Thranduil. Charlotte turned to the next page, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw a picture of Legolas. His profile was half turned away, staring into the distant horizon, and a peaceful smile graced his lips. Thranduil had sketched him in such a way that Legolas seemed almost life-like, that if she just reached out she would be able to touch him. The detail was exceptional and done by a skilled and loving hand.

Charlotte flipped through the pages: pictures of the front doors to Mirkwood, Thranduil’s elk, another picture of Legolas stringing his bow, and then her breath hitched when she came across an unfinished sketch. All that had been drawn were a pair of bright eyes framed by thick, dark lashes, and a set of full lips with the corners turned upwards in a soft smile. There was no mistaking that this was clearly meant to be a female. _Was this his wife?_ Charlotte snapped the sketchpad shut and placed it back on the side table. She did not want to admit it, but a pang of jealousy had pierced right through her at that last sketch. The worst part was, there was no way she could compete, especially not with the perfection of an elf. Nor could she compete with a memory.

Charlotte numbly made her way to the living room and stood there for a few moments, contemplating what to do. She needed something to occupy her mind and lift her spirits, and decided a different tune was needed.

She went over to the stereo and changed the radio station, grinning when the song Somebody to Love by Queen came on. Soon she was dancing to the tune, bopping to the beat and becoming lost in the moment. She twirled around and suddenly bumped into a hard and broad chest that belonged to none other than Thranduil. She slowly lifted her gaze and blinked with the realisation that all the anger from earlier had dissipated from his features, and a shadow of a smile was now playing on those perfectly shaped lips.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he wordlessly placed his hand on her waist, causing her breath to hitch, and took her other hand in his own. Before she knew it, Charlotte found herself being twirled around in a fast paced dance; Thranduil being the exceptional lead. A giggle bubbled from her lips before she could stop it, and Thranduil’s smile widened, showing he was enjoying the moment just as much as her.

The song ended and Thranduil released his hold on her, giving an exaggerated bow. Charlotte laughed and slumped gracelessly on the sofa, all that dancing having exhausted her. Thranduil turned down the volume and came to sit on the armchair, reaching over and taking her hand in his own. His features were once again serious and sombre.

“I apologise for my earlier transgression, Charlotte. What I said was uncalled for.”

Charlotte stared at him for a few moments, and finally said, “I know coming to this world hasn’t been easy, Thranduil.”

“No, it hasn’t,” he cut in. “There have been times where I have felt lost and, admittedly, frightened. But that is no excuse for taking my anger out on you, and I can’t express how sorry I am.”

_Wow. Thranduil was actually apologising. He must be feeling pretty shitty with himself,_ she mused. She understood that it had taken a lot for Thranduil to come forward and apologise, but she had to know one thing.

“Did…did you mean all those things you said?”

“About you? No,” he said, shaking his head. He gazed down at their entwined hands, his thumb rubbing idly against the back of her hand. “It was never about you.”

Charlotte frowned, feeling a bit confused by his words. There was more, but he was just refusing to voice it.

“I’m sorry about the whole gun incident, as well. I should have thought that one through.”

“Best we don’t talk about _that_ ,” he said, and Charlotte swore that the tips of his ears tinged pink. He was embarrassed. Charlotte contemplated teasing him about it, but it just felt cruel to mock him about something that had obviously scared him right out of his wits. So she let it be.

Instead, she deflected. “I didn’t think elves could dance like that. I always imagined you lot as being an uptight and stuffy bunch, and dancing being for formal occasions.”

Thranduil’s eyes twinkled and a slow smile crept on his face. He leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “That’s what we like the outsiders to believe. We enjoy having fun as much as the rest, and dancing is one of the best ways to have a good time.”

Charlotte scoffed. “I highly doubt grand balls are much fun.” She imagined stiff and choreographed dancing.

“No, _those_ are quite tedious.” Thranduil leaned back in his chair. “But there are festivals and parties that we partake in where there are different types of dancing, which are used to express an array of emotions: love, happiness, desire...”

“Desire?” Charlotte asked incredulously. She had always thought that elves were above such primitive feelings.

Thranduil gave her a knowing smirk, as though he were reading her thoughts. He cocked his head to the side, as though listening, and then stood up in a fluid motion and went over to the stereo to increase the volume. The song that had just started was Power of Love by Celine Dion. Charlotte raised a speculative brow at the king, wondering what exactly he was up to.

Thranduil closed the distance and extended his hand, his other tucked behind his back. “Dance with me?”

Charlotte blinked, taken aback by this change in subject, but wordlessly took his proffered hand and let him draw her to her feet. Thranduil placed his hand firmly on the small of her back, but this time it felt more sensual than before, especially as he drew her closer. Charlotte tentatively drew her arms up, positioning her hands on his shoulders, and as she gazed up at him, her heart starting to flutter wildly in her chest.

Thranduil slowly drew her closer even more, until their bodies were flush against each other, and slowly trailed his fingers up her arm and to her neck in a blazing trail, before burying his hand in her hair as he cupped the back of her head. Without warning, he dipped her back, swinging her in a slow arc, and as he bought her back up, Charlotte was intimately aware of the friction being created between their bodies as they conformed and moulded against each other. _Johnny Castle, eat your heart out…_

Charlotte let out a gasp as she felt his soft lips brush against her ear, his warm breath sending shivers coursing through her body.

“Desire, Charlotte,” he murmured, his voice husky.

And suddenly Charlotte understood: Thranduil had just conveyed how desire could be shown in the form of dancing, and _this_ had absolutely no bearing on what he actually felt towards her. She suddenly felt quite the fool, especially for believing that someone like Thranduil could desire her.

She flushed and glanced down, but his fingertips under her chin guided her gaze back to his. “Eyes on me, Charlotte.” His molten gaze was direct and commanding, and within their depths swirled something else that that was too intense for her to comprehend. All Charlotte could do was helplessly obey.

Her eyes never strayed from his as they swayed to the melodious music, his hypnotic gaze pulling her further and further down the rabbit hole. Thankfully, Thranduil did not try another erotic move like that again. If he had, Charlotte was sure she would have combusted right on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: a big shout out to Sapphire for suggesting the dancing scene. It came out VERY differently from what I originally imagined, so I’m wringing my hands nervously and hoping I did the scene justice.   
> Please review, fave and follow :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big, big, BIG thank you to everyone who has reviewed. Your wonderful words have been a great source of motivation and inspiration for me and I appreciate each and every one.  
> I decided to post this chapter a little early as the next few days are going to be insanely busy on my side and I just won’t have time to do so this week. And also consider this a peace offering for Thranduil’s reaction ;)   
> Here is the next chapter – I hope you enjoy it :)

Thranduil sat wide awake in bed, the pillows cushioned at his back as he stared aimlessly at his folded hands resting on his lap. He knew sleep would elude him this night as memories of the day’s events ran through his mind like a torrential river.

Admittedly, his thoughts centred solely on his little human companion. Shame and guilt washed over him as Thranduil recalled his outburst, as well as the stinging words that he had flung at Charlotte. He could not erase from his mind the abject hurt that simmered in those mesmerising warm depths of her eyes, or how she bit at her bottom lip to stay the tears that threatened to spill as she suffered his wrath.

Thranduil was manifestly aware that he had reduced many to tears over the course of his long life with his cold and scathing remarks. He was the king of the Woodland Realm, and ruling a kingdom was no easy task; sometimes he was forced to rule with a firm hand. There was no room for soft-heartedness, especially when reprimanding someone about a wrongdoing. Not that he was without compassion or feeling, but as a king he could ill afford to show any weakness.

But he had instantly regretted the cruel words he had inflicted upon Charlotte, though his volatile temper would not allow him to back down. When he had stormed off, his disgust had been more at himself, and he knew he had to leave before the situation became irreparable.

_But why had he said those things in the first place?_ Thranduil sighed deeply. He had been truthful when he had apologised to Charlotte and told her that it hadn’t been about her. It had, instead, been about him.

Thranduil prided himself in keeping a level head in most situations. Though, admittedly, his temper chose to rear its ugly head once in a while. Well, more often than he cared to admit. But since meeting Charlotte, something had shifted and changed within him. These feelings that were developing were toeing well past the line of mere friendship and companionship, delving into something more deep rooted, and he felt absolutely helpless in halting them in their tracks. She was like a bright beacon that guided his soul out of the murky and dark night that threatened to overtake him.

But every time he was tempted to cross that line with her, Thranduil was painfully reminded that Charlotte was a mere mortal. Doomed to die a mortal death. Pursuing anything with her would not end well for either of them. He had mentally reprimanded himself numerous times, urging himself to keep his distance, but whenever he was in close vicinity of Charlotte his resolve crumbled to fine dust.

So now he found himself in a constant state of conflict, and it had finally reached a breaking point when Charlotte had fired that weapon. His helplessness at being stranded here, to the stress that Eric was placing on their lives, and his developing feelings towards Charlotte had all finally reached a boiling point. And then there was his humiliation...Thranduil was not one to suffer the fool, so having such an adverse reaction to the gunshot and falling to the ground, unable to hide his fear, had been the final straw. Everything had then conformed together to form a massive ball of fury and he had blindly lashed out at an innocent woman. A woman whom he had come to care very deeply for. This was the part that bothered him the most. These emotions had evolved over such a short length of time that it was unfathomable to him.

Thranduil’s apology, though heartfelt, still hadn’t felt like enough, though. No amount of words could ever fix what he had broken, and he would forever be tainted with shame and guilt when he looked back on this moment.

Thranduil rubbed at his forehead. _How had he let things get so out of hand?_ For once, he was not in control on either his predicament or his feelings, and this alone was enough the scare him. He knew he really needed to step back and maintain personal space from Charlotte before things got too out of hand, a fact that he reminded himself of for what felt like the hundredth time. Though, by his reckoning, things had already developed well past the point of no return.

Thranduil’s head snapped up when he heard Charlotte’s soft treads passing his closed door. _She was probably headed to the kitchen for a glass of water_. Thranduil briefly contemplated whether to follow her, a dark part desiring to seek out her warmth and comfort, but he dismissed this foolish idea immediately. No, he needed to keep those barriers up. He could ill afford to allow Charlotte to work her way deeper into his heart.

A few minutes later Thranduil detected her return, and his heart started to increase in speed when she paused outside of his closed door. _Would she knock and seek entrance?_ If she did, Thranduil wasn’t certain if he would be able to control his quickly unravelling resolve.

With relief (and disappointment) Thranduil heard Charlotte make her way back to her room and close her door softly behind her. _What was it about that fragile human that held his heart so captivated?_ Thranduil had no answer to that question, and doubted if he ever would.

 

ooOoo

 

As predicted, Thranduil experienced little to no sleep that night. He was now currently standing at his bedroom window, waiting for the dawn to burst over the horizon and bathe the sleeping lands in her brilliant light.

Satisfied that it was now light enough outside, Thranduil dressed a simple charcoal grey shirt and faded blue jeans. He disliked these clothes, finding them too constrictive and rough against his skin, but had very little choice other than to wear them.

He decided to take along one sword with him and silently stepped out of his bedroom, his eyes flickering to Charlotte’s door of their own accord. _She would still undoubtedly be sound asleep in her bed, probably wearing one of her garish pajamas._ A fond smile graced his lips at this thought. _She really was an endearing little thing…No, he had to stop thinking like that._

Thranduil, with the stealth of his kind, made his way downstairs and threw his cloak over his shoulders and then donned the pair of boots that Charlotte had bought him. They were ill-fitting compared to what he was used to, and pinched at his toes uncomfortably. _Just another aggravation and another reminder of his misfortune_ , he thought bitterly and longed for a pair of his finely crafted and supple leather boots.

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder once more, but he was confident that his movements had not woken the slumbering Charlotte, and he headed outside, closing the door silently behind him.

Thranduil spent the next two hours meticulously searching the perimeter of the property, keeping on the look-out for any signs or tracks that hinted at Eric’s presence. He was finally satisfied that Eric had not decided to stake out Charlotte’s house, but this did little to ease the gnawing discomfort that settled in the pit of his stomach. Eric, though unhinged, was cunning and by no means an idiot. Thranduil knew deep down that Eric was just biding his time, waiting to strike when the opportunity presented itself. But Eric was at one disadvantage: he did not count on Charlotte being under the Elven King’s protection. Thranduil smiled to himself at this thought. _If Eric ever showed his face again, he was going to be in a world of surprise. And pain._

Thranduil decided to make his way to the spot overlooking the lake. He sat down on the rocky ledge, his gaze drifting over the calm water as the sun glinted off the surface like a polished mirror.

His thoughts drifted to the dance he had shared with Charlotte and he swallowed hard, his pulse starting to increase at the memory. He could not chase away how it felt to hold her soft and pliant body beneath his hands, and the beautiful flush that crept on her pale cheeks as their bodies molded illicitly against each other, their movements causing a delicious friction. He closed his eyes tightly, trying in vain to even out his breathing. Darker images replaced the memory, and he was suddenly deluded with the tantalising images of Charlotte in the throes of passion…

Thranduil groaned and clasped his head in his hands. “I need to leave,” he said out loud.

“And where would you go?”

Thranduil’s head snapped up, his hand instantly at the hilt of his sword. His eyes widened fractionally as Galadriel glided into his line of vision like a phantasm of pure perfection. She was swathed in an ivory hued gossamer dress, the silky material covering her body like a fine mist. She wore upon her head a silver interwoven circlet, and her golden hair fell in longs waves over her slim shoulder.  She was breathtakingly beautiful in poise, beauty and grace, but all Thranduil felt as his eyes landed on her form was annoyance and rage.

“You finally decided to grace me with your presence,” he bristled, rising to his feet.

Galadriel bestowed him a soft and enigmatic smile, which only served to add fuel to his ire.

“You need to send me back, Galadriel.” There was definitely no mistaking the warning in his tone.

Galadriel came to stand beside him, her gaze focused on the scene before them. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed as he noted her form wasn’t solid, almost as though she were an apparition in this world.

“You shall return home, Thranduil,” she replied, her voice velvety like the petals of a fully bloomed rose.

“When?”

“When the time is right.”

His jaw clenched and he took a few calming breaths lest he lose his composure and snap at her, and it was taking every ounce of willpower not to do so. This was something he had always found exasperating about Galadriel: she was cryptic to the point of infuriation, even for an elf.

“No,” he said slowly and darkly. “You shall return me home this very instant.”

“And what of Charlotte?”

Thranduil paused, taken aback by the question. “What about her?”

Galadriel slowly turned her gaze to meet his, her all-knowing eyes boring into his. “Why are you so eager to leave her?”

Thranduil glared at her. “I think you know why.”

Galadriel merely stared back at him, no words coming forth from her perfectly shaped lips.

Thranduil turned his gaze back to the lake, his anger simmering just below the surface. “If I stay for any length of time, I doubt I will be able to tamper down these feelings that are growing towards Charlotte.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

Thranduil whipped his head back to glare at her, his composure finally snapping. “Yes, it is!”

Galadriel shifted gracefully so that she was now facing him, her elegant hands clasped in front of her.

“Are you truly afraid of your feelings towards her?” she asked, the calm to his storm.

Thranduil clenched his jaw. “Charlotte is human, Galadriel. A mortal.” He stopped, letting his point hang heavy in the air between them: Charlotte would die a mortal death. Either now or many years from now, it did not matter. Her fate was sealed and there was nothing he could do about that. “What was the point of bringing me here, Galadriel? For me to fall in love with Charlotte?” This came out as a haughty scoff. “I barely know her.”

A shadow of a smile tugged at the corners of Galadriel’s mouth. “And yet, I think you have,” she stated. The fact that she did not answer his questions did not go unnoticed by Thranduil.

“You are sorely mistaken,” he growled.

Galadriel’s smile increased fractionally, as though she could sense his denial, and she turned her gaze away from him. “There is a something to be learned in all of this, Thranduil. When you have learned it, you shall be returned back to Middle Earth.”

“And what, pray tell, and I supposed to learn?!” he snapped. His tentative hold on his temper was threatening to snap. Again.

“That remains to be seen,” Galadriel replied evenly and gave him a pointed look, arching a finely shaped brow. She abruptly turned on her heel and glided away, fading like a dream into the dense woods.

Thranduil glared daggers at the spot where she had disappeared. The tightness in his chest increased, threatening to suffocate him. _He was essentially stuck here until he learned whatever damned lesson he was supposed to learn!_ Galadriel’s appearance had done nothing to answer his many questions, nor had it done much to ease his mind. All she had accomplished was to anger him even more.

Thranduil stormed through the woods, the raging storm following in his wake as he made his way back to the house. Even the trees seemed to shudder as he passed, sensing the formidable mood he was in.

He marched into the house and went straight to his room, where he retrieved the bow he had meticulously crafted two days prior, along with the arrows. He was not without skill and had learned from a young age how to make bows and arrows from scratch. This was a poor substitute, though, with the right materials not being readily at his disposal, but he had made do with what he had found and had fashioned them the best he could.

Clutching them in his grasp, Thranduil made his way downstairs and out through the back door, letting it slam in his wake. He stormed over to the area where Charlotte had chosen to target practise yesterday. And then he let loose.

He fired arrow after arrow at the trees, hitting the rough bark with a satisfying _thud._ He steadily did this for the next hour, honing all his frustration and anger into his mark. It gradually started to work and he found the tension seeping slowly from him.

Thranduil heard her approach, but deigned not to turn around and greet Charlotte as she neared him.

“Cup of tea?” she asked, her voice tinted with nervousness.

Thranduil paused, his arrow strung taut in the bow, and then he let it fly. It hit its mark once again, and Thranduil slowly lowered his bow before turning to face the person centred on all his thoughts and turmoil.

Charlotte was dressed in black leggings and knee high tan boots, and she wore her black winter’s coat. It was not zipped all the way up and he glimpsed the elegant curve of her collar bone peeking through. Her unruly waves were swept back into a high ponytail, revealing the soft roundness of her facial features, and her pale cheeks were slightly flushed from the cold air that permeated all around them.

She was clutching two cups of tea in her hands, and froze at the cold look on his face. “Bad time?”

“You could say that.”

“What happened?”

Thranduil took a deep breath through his nose and turned his attention back to the targets. “Galadriel finally honored me with her presence.”

“Really? What did she say?”

Thranduil notched another arrow and replied, “Nothing useful. Only that I have a lesson to learn before I can return back to my world.”

He narrowed his eyes as he concentrated on his mark, but he was painfully aware of the little human filling his senses.

There was a few moments of contemplative silence before she spoke up. “Any idea what the lesson is supposed to be?”

“No.” He let the arrow fly. They both watched as it embedded into the tree with a shudder.

“Well,” she drew out slowly. “At least you know you’ll return home. Eventually.”

Thranduil wanted to lash out and make a scathing remark, but he had sworn that he would not hurt Charlotte again, and it was a vow he intended to fully keep. He lowered his bow and drew out a wary sigh.

“Yes, I suppose.”

Charlotte placed the mugs of tea on one of the stumps near them and then turned to face him. “Look on the bright side, Thranduil. At least you won’t have to put up with my cooking anymore.”

“Actually, I think your cooking has helped me build up a resistance to poison,” he stated drily, but gave her a small smile to show that he was joking.

Charlotte returned his smile and crossed her arms, tucking her hands under her armpits. “And I won’t have anyone to insult my cooking, or my hair, or my clothes.”

The smile faded from his face, and with a pang Thranduil realised that he would actually miss her presence, along with everything else she had mentioned. _Well, maybe not her cooking_. Thranduil frowned. He had been so desperate to leave a mere few hours ago, and now he was actually dreading the hour of his departure.

Charlotte frowned at the seriousness that washed over his features.

“I was joking, Thranduil.” She glanced down and said more quietly. “I’m…actually going to miss you.”

Thranduil stared back at her, unmoving and eerily silent. _How was he to respond when she was echoing exactly what he was feeling?_ But he knew that he had to keep the boundaries in place, no matter how excruciating it would be.

“I will miss you, too.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and he inwardly cursed his foolishness.

Charlotte didn’t seem to notice, though. “Nah, you’ll forget me as soon as get back to your kingdom,” she joked.

Thranduil’s head snapped in her direction and he instantly dropped his bow to the ground and was in front of her in a movement that was quicker than the eye could follow. He clasped her on the shoulders and Charlotte stared back at him, shocked.

“No. You I will never forget.” His words seemed to echo throughout the lands, his vow cemented in the very fabric of time.

Thranduil blinked in surprise and took a step back, letting his arms drop to his side. _He had not meant for that to happen. In fact, he had not meant for a lot of things to happen…_

Charlotte, as though sensing his discomfort, decided to deflect.

“Did…did you make that bow?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful.” Charlotte paused. “Can you teach me?”

This was the last thing he wanted to do. Thranduil wanted to maintain a respectable distance from now on, but as he stared back at her he found he was unable to refuse.

He wordlessly picked up the bow from the ground and handed it to her.

“Get into position,” he instructed, handing her an arrow.

“Like this?” she asked. Her stance all wrong and the bow and arrow were clutched awkwardly in her hands.

Thranduil raked a critical eye over her form. He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hold that position,” he murmured before pressing his one hand at the small of her back, forcing her to straighten her posture. He could hear her breathing quicken, and he momentarily closed his eyes, as though in pain. _He needed to get control of the situation, and fast…_

Thranduil slowly opened his eyes and glided his hands Charlotte’s hips, his grip tightening as he slowly pivoted them into the right position, and he tried hard to ignore the gasp that emitted from her lips. His hands lingered, reluctant to release their hold on her. Then he slowly closed the distance, his front pressing against her back as he adjusted her grip on the bow, his hand curling over hers. His other hand snaked around her other one that clutched the arrow, and with his guidance, she pulled the arrow taut in the string of the bow.

His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, and there was no mistaking the shiver that coursed through her body. _Dear Eru! How was he going to survive through this_?

“Focus on the target, Charlotte, just like you did when you aimed your gun,” he murmured. His hands slid away from hers like the retreating tide, and without conscious thought, came to rest on her hips.

“Inhale, and let the arrow fly on the exhale,” he instructed, his lips never leaving her ear. Beneath his fingertips he felt her body quiver, and he inwardly groaned. It was with a great amount of restraint that he managed to step away. If Charlotte had turned around she would have seen the dark look that shadowed his face as he eyed her with a predatory gleam.

He folded his arms on front of him and dug his fingers into his arms, the pain distracting him from such thoughts. He inhaled deeply through his nose and conformed his features into a neutral mask.

Charlotte did as he instructed and let the arrow fly…and it fell pathetically to the ground about a foot away from her feet.

Thranduil pressed his lips together to refrain from laughing, but failed miserably. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder and glared at the amusement written all over his face.

“Laughing at my expense again,” she remarked. The light shining in her eyes told him that she was not upset at all, and at least could see the comical side of her pathetic archery skills.

“Yes. It’s not hard to do so when you make it so easy.”

Charlotte gazed at him and then closed the distance. Thranduil instantly stilled, his senses on high alert.

She handed him the arrow, which he wordlessly took, and she boldly stared up at him, a teasing light blazing in her hazel eyes. “You know, a student is only as good as her teacher, Thranduil.”

Thranduil stared down his nose at her and countered in his deep voice, which had gone huskily low, “I could teach you many things, Charlotte.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened and she visibly gulped. She flushed a pretty shade of pink and stepped back, unable to meet his eyes. She then turned abruptly and picked up her tea.

“And I think I would let you,” she murmured before making her way hastily back to the house.

Thranduil’s eyes widened in surprise as he watched her departure. _Had he heard right?_ His resolve was so close to disintegrating, and those words uttered from her lips were not helping in the least. He took a deep breath and flung his bow to the ground before following her into the house, common sense dissipating in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, fave and follow :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A HUGE thank you to everyone for your wonderful reviews. My goodness, your reviews really put a huge grin on my face, so thank you so much for those words of encouragement.
> 
> This chapter was finished quicker than expected and I could not resist posting it. It’s short and sweet and I hope it makes up for the cliffhanger in the last chapter ;)
> 
> Here is the next chapter – I hope you enjoy it.

Charlotte entered the house and placed her mug of tea on the counter before hastily kicking off her boots and shucking off her jacket, which was flung absently at the coat rack. She didn’t spare it a second thought as it fell to the floor in a rumpled heap, her mind too much a cascading wave of emotions.

_Shit!_ She mentally cursed herself. _Why had she admitted such a thing to him? Why?_

Fear curled at the pit of her stomach like an icy sphere at the thought of the rejection that would surely come. She had faced his notorious wrath once before and Charlotte was not keen to experience _that_ again, let alone his rebuff. _Thranduil must think her such a foolish child to even entertain the idea that they could possibly be together like that! What the hell had she been thinking making such an invitation?_

Anxiety coursed through her veins and Charlotte had the sudden urge to flee, and her room was about the only option available to her right now. Without a second thought, Charlotte flew up the stairs like a startled cat, only slowing once she had reached the top landing. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Thranduil was not pursuing her and relief flooded her when she spotted no sign of his presence.

As she strode past Thranduil’s door, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Charlotte peeked in, pausing when she noted the sketchpad lying on his neatly made bed. The pad was open and the graphite pencil lay in the middle of the page, clearly waiting for its next project.

But it was the picture that lay beneath the pencil that caused her contemplative pause. Charlotte entered the room with cautious steps, as though she were entering a sacred abode, and made her way over to the bed.

Her breath caught in her throat and her pulse increased as the picture became clearer: it was a drawing of her.

Charlotte frowned as she stared down at the picture that was artfully and beautifully drawn – _more beautiful than what she actually was_ , Charlotte mused. There was no mistaking the care that Thranduil had taken to draw her likeness, even down to the light smattering of freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. But what totally took her breath away was the fact that this was obviously the picture she had stumbled upon yesterday, thinking that it was a drawing of Thranduil’s wife. She traced her fingertip over the pencil lines. It was almost as though Thranduil had poured his very soul into creating this image, and there was no doubt in her mind that this was how he truly viewed her: someone worthwhile and beautiful. Tears sprang to her eyes at this realisation.

“I finished it last night,” Thranduil said from behind her.

Charlotte spun around, her heart now hammering in her chest as she stared back at the Elven King. Thranduil stood at his full and imposing height in the doorway, his dark clothing in contrast to the pure white of his hair, which hung over his shoulders like finely spun silk. His face was a beautifully sculpted mask as he carefully gauged her reaction.

“I…I saw it yesterday. I thought you were drawing your…wife,” Charlotte mumbled, casting her gaze back to the drawing.

There was a long pause and Charlotte chanced a peek at him. Thranduil was staring at her with such a penetrating gaze that she quickly averted her eyes, unable to fully face his scrutiny.

“You are the one who occupies my thoughts of late, Charlotte,” he admitted quietly.

Charlotte stilled, wondering if she had heard right, and slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. His features revealed nothing but a blank canvas.

“What did you mean, exactly, by your words, Charlotte?”

Charlotte froze, suddenly feeling trapped.  Now was the moment of truth, the moment when she would have to face the consequence of her actions, or in this case, words. And she would also have to face his rejection. Suddenly Charlotte felt very afraid.

Her eyes flickered to the doorway, which Thranduil was currently blocking. There was no escape.

Thranduil, noting the nervous way her gaze flickered to the door, stepped aside. “I will not bar you from the escape you so clearly desire, Charlotte, but I need to know.”

Charlotte swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. She couldn’t stop the slight tremble that rippled through her body.

“What did you mean?” Thranduil pressed.

“Nothing,” Charlotte finally muttered, crossing her arms protectively over her belly. “It was…nothing.”

Thranduil took a step closer to her, noting the fear that now burnished on her face. It was plain as day that Charlotte was deathly afraid, but why? _Surely she was not afraid of him?_ He instantly dismissed that thought as ludicrous. _So that meant that she was afraid of his…reaction_. Thranduil was tempted to leave her be, as he really did not like the thought of causing her such distress, but he desperately needed to know and he would not let this go until he had the full truth.

“Please don’t lie to me, Charlotte. I think we have already established that such deceptions do not work on me.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. _Shit! She had forgotten that he could tell when she was lying._

“Please, Thranduil. Just drop it,” she pleaded.

Thranduil took another step closer, his eyes boring into her, seeking answers that she was reluctant, or unwilling, to give.

“No, Charlotte. I need to know.”

Charlotte glanced away from his intense gaze, her pulse racing frantically.

“Answer me, Charlotte.” His voice was low and soft, but there was no mistaking the command in his tone.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Why not?” Thranduil was standing right in front of her now. It wouldn’t take much to close the distance, but Thranduil carefully held back.

“Because…I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

Charlotte shook her head, her hair rustling with the movement.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Your rejection!” she blurted out and clamped her hand over her mouth, looking at him with wide eyes that clearly showed her shock at this admission.

Thranduil tilted his head to the side, peering down at her with a small frown etched on his thick brows. “What makes you think I would reject you?” he finally asked.

Charlotte dropped her hands and hung her head and replied in a small voice, “Why wouldn’t you? I mean, look at me.” Compared to the perfections of elves, Charlotte knew that she was nothing but a frumpy human who could never compare or compete, and she certainly didn’t have a shot in hell with Thranduil.

His fingertips under her chin gently guided her gaze upwards, until she was forced to look at him. Instead of seeing cold callousness, there was nothing but light and warmth alighting his features with sincerity, making his blue eyes sparkle like gems.

“I am looking at you, Charlotte,” he murmured. “Do you know what I see?”

Charlotte swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes from his hypnotic gaze.

“I see the person that you truly are, Charlotte. The fire within you burns with such intensity that it is unquenchable, and truly magnificent to behold.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip, uncertainty still warring within her.

Thranduil’s hands drew up slowly to cup her face between his palms, and freed her bottom lip from between her teeth with his thumb. Her breath hitched as he gently grazed his thumb over her lip, his eyes darkening into smouldering pits.

“I fear that your fire will consume me and burn me to ashes, Charlotte, and there is little I can do to stop it.”

Charlotte frowned. Thranduil was talking in riddles and she was tired of the cat-and-mouse. She just wished he would speak plainly.

“Please stop playing games with me, Thranduil,” she whispered.

Thranduil studied Charlotte intently. The doubt at his words shone through those hazel depths, and Thranduil knew that it was time to end this silly game once and for all. Damned be the consequences.

“I’m not playing games, Charlotte. I thought that through my actions I had made it abundantly clear to you that I care deeply for you, that my desires run deeper than that of the physical aspect.” Thranduil paused.  “And if I’m not mistaken…I think you feel the same way.”

“No,” she lied feebly.

A shadow of a smirk played on his lips, his resolve shattering as his eyes flickered to her full lips. “You’re lying again, Charlotte.”

Thranduil slowly closed the distance, his lips now dangerously close to hers. Charlotte’s heart was now hammering so loudly in her chest that it drowned out all coherent thoughts as his warm breath mingled with her own. Her knees suddenly felt weak and wobbly and she clutched at his upper arms for support.

His soft lips brushed against hers in a feather-like movement that Charlotte wondered if she had imagined it as her eyes fluttered closed, her knees dangerously close to buckling from beneath her.

“Is this what you want, Charlotte?” Thranduil whispered, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

_Dear Lord, she could no longer deny it no matter how hard she tried._

“Yes.”

His thumb caressed her cheek and then he kissed her. His lips moulded against hers in an exquisite and sensual dance as he took his time to slowly savour the taste and feel of her. Charlotte felt as though her breath was quite literally being taken away as she melted into the smouldering kiss.

Thranduil pulled back, surprise written all over his features. If Charlotte thought she had been breathless before, it was nothing compared to the heart stopping moment when his gaze darkened into that of sizzling promise and intent.

His lips crashed against hers, fierce and possessive, and Charlotte felt herself being guided back as Thranduil gently lowered her to the bed, never breaking the feverish kiss. Charlotte registered the tug on her hair before her hair was freed from her hair tie, the soft waves falling around her face. Thranduil weaved his fingers through her hair and Charlotte responded in kind by scraping her nails against his scalp, eliciting a deep moan from the Elven king. It seemed as though he were shattering beneath her touch just as much as she was.

The kiss slowed and deepened, but seemed to intensify as it became something more intimate. Something that bordered far beyond desire that it was almost too much to bear.

Thranduil pulled back with a shuddering breath and rested his forehead against her own, his eyes closed as he worked to control his breathing. Charlotte clutched at his shoulders, still feeling shaky and lightheaded from the passionate kiss. _That…that had been unlike any kiss she had experienced before._

“We need to stop before this goes any further,” he groaned.

Charlotte would have agreed with him if she could think straight, but all she could do was breathe in ragged breaths. Part of her wanted to protest, but she knew that if things went beyond mere kissing, she would be reduced to a puddle of mush beneath him. Plus she hadn’t shaved her legs lately and the forest had now reclaimed the land. Maybe it was a good thing that Thranduil was exercising more self-control than her. She didn’t want him to encounter hairy legs and mistake her for a dwarf!

Thranduil slowly opened his eyes, and a smug smile graced his face at the sight of a flushed Charlotte lying beneath him. _Dear Eru! She was more beautiful like this than he could have ever imagined._

Thranduil caressed his thumb against her cheekbone as he gazed down at her with unveiled adoration. He leaned in and lightly brushed his lips against hers.

“I thought the fire that you had kindled within me would be extinguished after a taste of you, but all it has done is cause an inferno.”

“English, Thranduil. I can barely think straight right now.”

Thranduil gave a low chuckle. He kissed the tip of her nose and reluctantly rose from the bed, helping Charlotte to her unsteady feet. He placed his hands on her waist, drawing her warm and pliant body against his, and rested his chin contently on the top of her unruly waves as she weaved her arms around his slim waist and rested her cheek against his chest.

“Do…do you regret it?” she mumbled against his chest, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

“Yes.”

Charlotte glanced up at him, unable to hide the hurt that flew across her features.

“But not in the way you think.” Thranduil’s face became serious as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I regret the fact that you are mortal.”

Charlottes eyes widened in understanding. This, admittedly, was not something she had thought about, but now that Thranduil mentioned it, it was blindingly clear.

Thranduil gazed down at the woman in his arms. Her mortality was not something he wanted to think about, but now that the barriers he had so desperately sought to keep up crumbled like fine dust at his feet, this simple fact was now weighing heavy in his heart. He had now become lost in the very essence of Charlotte, and he knew her passing would crush him until he wished for nothing else but death.

_How had things become so complicated, especially in such a short amount of time?_

Thranduil captured Charlotte’s lips again, searing this moment forever into his memory, and it would serve to be his light in the dark times that would surely come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So…they finally kissed! I rewrote this chapter a few times, trying to get it right, and I really hope I did it justice.
> 
> Now, on to a more serious question. I want to write about Thranduil’s wife and as you all know there is little to no information about her, so I am going to have to take some liberties when I create her character. There won’t be any character bashing as I do want to write her in a good light. So, I guess what I’m asking is do any of you have a suggestion for a name?
> 
> Thank you for reading and please review, fave and follow :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A HUGE thank you to everyone for all your wonderful reviews on the last chapter, as well as name suggestions. I can’t express how grateful I am for all your kind words of support :)  
> So a big thank you needs to go out to WickedGreen13 from Fanfiction.net for suggesting the name for Thranduil’s wife. I really loved the name meaning and the sound of it. And I really appreciated the name suggestions all of you gave me. They all sounded lovely and it was a difficult choice to make between all of them. So thank you once again for all the help you guys have offered me – I am truly touched.  
> So without further ado, here is the next chapter – I hope you enjoy it

“Would you care to take a walk with me?” Thranduil asked, his rich and deep voice piercing the contented silence that now permeated all around them, save for the uneven breaths of its occupants.

Charlotte glanced up at him, her cheeks beautifully flushed, and she blinked a few times trying to focus on his words. Thranduil understood fully – he, too, was finding it hard to concentrate on anything but the warm and pliant woman he held beneath his hands. But there was much he wanted to discuss with her before he let their relationship progress any further. And he did, indeed, want to take things further with her. Their kiss had only been a taste of what could be, and fuelled a desire for more. Much, much more.

A sudden shyness seemed to envelope Charlotte and she mutely nodded in agreement.

Suddenly a loud growl sounded from her stomach and Charlotte glanced down at mortification at the offending body part. _Really? You had to do this now?!_

“But first, I think some breakfast is in order,” Thranduil stated, amusement written all over his luminous features.

Charlotte glanced back up at him, her face red from embarrassment. “Um…yeah. I think that might be a good idea.” _Not only were her legs conspiring against her, but now her belly as well._ “What would you like me to make you?”

His grin instantly vanished and alarm now washed over his features. “No, no. That’s quite alright. I’ll make breakfast,” he said hastily.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him. “Honestly, I’m not _that_ bad of a cook.”

Thranduil merely arched a thick brow, his silence speaking volumes.

“Fine,” Charlotte said in defeat. “If I’m really that terrible, maybe you should teach me.”

“I could try, but I know a lost cause when I see one, Charlotte.” He flashed her a playful grin that made his eyes twinkle with a blazing light that illuminated his whole face, before swiftly departing from the room.

In rare moments like these, when he let the mask fall, Charlotte could fully see the warm, carefree and playful ellon Thranduil was capable of being. There was so much more to him than met the eye beneath those many layers of icy and haughty indifference.

Charlotte shook her head, quite used to his teasing by now. It seemed her cooking would always be the brunt of his jokes. Not that she could blame him – she really did hate cooking and it showed. She sighed and decided to go join him in the kitchen.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte was perched on the counter, her legs swinging idly as she watched Thranduil make pancakes to a golden perfection. He moved with a dancer’s grace, so elegant and hypnotic that it was not hard to be captivated by his movements and finesse.

Her stomach gave off another growl and Charlotte reached for the jar of peanut butter. She twisted the lid off and scooped out a glob with her finger. _There was nothing better than eating peanut butter straight from the jar._

“What are you doing?”

Charlotte glanced up to see Thranduil eyeing her with what could only be described as mild disdain mixed in with a dash of perplexity.

“Eating peanut butter,” she retorted defensively. She held her finger out to him in invitation. “Want some?” she asked innocently.

Thranduil merely stared back at her, his left brow slowly rising to form a perfect arch.

Charlotte shrugged. “More for me then.”

She popped her finger into her mouth and sucked the peanut butter off with more gusto than was necessary. She stilled when she noted the darkened look color his eyes and she released her finger with an audible ‘pop’.

Thranduil closed the distance, coming to stand between her legs and placed his hand on the counter on either side of her. Charlotte stilled, her heart beating frantically in her chest.

“I think I shall sample a taste,” he said, his voice low. Then he captured her lips in a smouldering and intense kiss that left her feeling decidedly lightheaded as his hands pressed against her back drew her flush against him. His tongue darted out and Charlotte willingly parted her lips, granting him entrance, all coherent thought leaving her as their tongues danced sensuously as they tasted each other.

Thranduil was the first to pull free from the kiss and he stepped back looking decidedly suave and unaffected. “Delicious,” he stated, the corner of his mouth twitching as he battled to contain his mirth.

Charlotte sat motionless (and maybe a bit cross-eyed) with her mouth hanging open.

“Breakfast is ready,” he stated cheerfully, snapping her out of her stupor. Charlotte blinked. _What else could he do with that tongue?_ She flushed spectacularly, which only caused Thranduil’s grin to widen, as though he were reading her thoughts.

Charlotte hopped off the counter, landing on unsteady legs and made her way to the table, studiously refusing to meet his gaze. Thranduil sat opposite her with agile grace and started piling his plate with pancakes, the sticky syrup seeping into the spongy delicacy. There was a bowl of freshly cut fruits, which he generously sprinkled over his breakfast.

Charlotte watched him over the brim of her mug as she took a sip of tea. _What was going through that pretty head of his right now? How could he act so cool and unaffected when she was almost a blubbering mess after that searing kiss?_

“May I ask you something, Charlotte?” he abruptly enquired as he sliced through his pancakes

“Um…sure,” Charlotte hesitantly replied. It was hard to read his expression, especially when he wore his mask of indifference and she was uncertain which way the question would go.

Thranduil chewed his mouthful of food and swallowed before placing his knife and fork down on the plate and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“What does your name mean?”

“Huh?” Charlotte had been expecting something more…serious. “What do you mean?”

“In the common tongue, my name translates to ‘Vigorous Spring’. And Legolas’ name means ‘Green Leaf’. I was curious as to the meaning behind your name.”

“Oh,” Charlotte breathed out, visibly relaxing. “Well, I was actually named after a character in a book called ‘Charlotte’s Web’. It was one of my parent’s favorite books.”

Thranduil tilted his head to the side, curiosity alighting his features. “And was the fictional Charlotte anything like you?”

Charlotte grinned wickedly. “Actually, Charlotte was a spider!”

Thranduil’s eyes widened and then he actually let out a hearty laugh. “Then you would fit in perfectly in Mirkwood, my little spider.”

Charlotte groaned. “You’re incorrigible.”

Thranduil’s eyes sparkled in merriment, but a shadow passed through his heart. _Would he even be able to bring Charlotte back to Middle Earth with him?_ The answer, unfortunately, lay with Galadriel, and if he knew her well enough, she would not be forthcoming with any answers.

 

ooOoo

 

After breakfast, Thranduil and Charlotte dressed for the brisk outdoor weather and made their way to the tranquil spot overlooking the lake, Thranduil’s bare hand entwined with her own gloved one. He had foregone the winter jacket and was wearing his heavy cloak, the charcoal grey material flapping around his feet and the red underlining flashing every now and then like crimson blood. Charlotte sensed that he wanted to take her to this spot for a reason, but try as she might, she could not fathom out why. And it was making her a tad bit anxious. She didn’t think that Thranduil regretted his actions – he had said as much and his actions at breakfast proved the truth in his words. _So…what did he want to talk about?_ The suspense was killing her.

“Do elves ever get cold?” she asked, more to break the silence, but it was something that had been nagging at the back of her mind for a while. Thranduil always seemed unaffected by the chill.

Thranduil glanced down at her, his unblinking gaze boring into her. “Yes, we do feel the cold, Charlotte, but not to the extent that you mortals do. We tend to be more resilient when it comes to the outer elements.”

“So you guys have a high tolerance for just about everything and are deadly warriors. You know, I’m starting to think that elves, if they really put their minds to it, could take over all of Middle Earth.”

Thranduil cut his gaze to her, amusement showing plain on his face. “I daresay we could, but we prefer peace above all else.”

“Well, that’s good. Because I doubt if humanity would ever stand a chance if elves got it in their heads to become dark overlords.”

“No need to worry, Charlotte. We prefer conquests of the more…pleasurable kind.”

Charlotte’s head snapped in his direction. She couldn’t tell if Thranduil was teasing or not, as he was staring straight ahead now and not bothering to elaborate further on his comment, but she swore a shadow of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, so indiscernible that it could almost be missed. _Yeah, definitely teasing. Surely elves weren’t…adventurous like that, were they?_ Though, if Thranduil’s subtle (or not so subtle) flirting was any indication, then yes, elves were definitely adventurous in that department.

They reached the rocky ledge and Thranduil released her hand as he sat down, his knees slightly bent.

“Come sit with me, little one,” he said, extending a long fingered hand in invitation. This time there was no hesitation on Charlotte’s part and she willingly plonked herself down between his legs. Thranduil wrapped his arms around her like a security blanket and drew her close to his chest, his chin resting on the crown of her head as they stared out at the dark reflective water. Charlotte breathed out a sigh of contentment. Being ensconced in his arms just felt perfectly right, and she revelled at the safety his arms offered.

“I feel that I must address a misunderstanding, Charlotte,” he started, his deep voice reaching down to the very core of her body.

Charlotte held her breath. _Uh-Oh. This did not sound good_.

“I think it is time I offered you an explanation regarding my wife.”

This was a topic she had not been suspecting, and Charlotte bit her bottom lip. _So Thranduil had sensed her jealousy then_. She took a deep breath and twisted around in his arms enough to gaze up at him. Thranduil kept his arms locked around her body, staring down at her with a mask of neutrality.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the distinct impression that you think I still harbor feelings for her.”

Charlotte stared back at him nervously. “Um, well…yeah.” She took a deep breath and decided to explain herself. “I know, or at least understand from what I’ve read, that elves love more deeply than a human and that when they marry, it’s for life. I assumed the same would be true of your marriage.”

Thranduil glanced back at the lake, a faraway look in those cold blue eyes. “Usually, yes. But my union with Calemir was that of an arranged marriage.”

Charlotte openly gaped, shocked to her very core. “What?!”

Thranduil turned his attention back to her and Charlotte noted the sadness that seeped into his eyes. “Being of noble blood, I had very little say in the matter, Charlotte. Our union bought together two houses, and one could even say that it was formed from the necessity of a political alliance.”

“That sounds…horrible.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, though there was little to no humor on his face. “It was not ideal, I’ll admit that much, and I could have been a better husband.” Thranduil paused and gazed down at Charlotte with an unreadable expression. “Calemir was an exceptionally beautiful elleth, her emerald eyes being very much her name sake.” Thranduil noted the puzzled expression written on Charlotte’s face. “Calemir, when translated, means ‘Green Jewel’.”

“Ah,” Charlotte said in understanding.

Thranduil rubbed his hand absently against her arm. “Even though she possessed great physical beauty, Calemir never seemed tainted in spirit. She was pure of heart; very kind and soft-spoken. She deserved better than to be bonded to me.” The last part was stated with a bite of bitterness.

Charlotte’s brows furrowed together. “I find it hard to believe you were cruel to her, Thranduil.”

“No. I was never cruel, but I was indifferent and only showed her a cold front.”

“But that must have changed. You two, after all, had Legolas.”

Thranduil continued to stare out at the scenery before them, his face a stony façade; unreadable and unreachable. Charlotte thought he was not going to answer, but then he spoke again.

“It is true that I did not love her in the beginning. I detested that I was now forced to be bonded with someone not of my choosing and someone I did not love. But over time…that changed. Her inner beauty shone through and her gentle ways broke through my icy walls and I came to care very deeply for her, enough to actually view her as my equal and my wife.” Thranduil blinked slowly, still refusing to meet her enquiring gaze.

“After Legolas was born, I started to view her in a different light. She had born me a beautiful son and she had nothing but love and patience for Legolas. The feelings I had for her slowly started to morph. Calemir was the mother of my chid, after all, and I would do no less but to show her kindness and love.”

Charlotte swallowed hard. This tale would take a very dark turn, as she knew that Calemir had been viciously tortured and killed in Gundabad. She really hoped Thranduil would not go into details about that part.

Thranduil suddenly glanced at her and Charlotte felt her heart race at the intensity of his gaze.

“I am not telling you all of this to hurt you, Charlotte. I am telling you so that you will understand.”

“Understand what?” Charlotte whispered.

Thranduil lifted his hand and traced his fingertips over her cool cheek, tenderness shining through his features.

“I loved my wife, yes, but the feelings I once harbored for Calemir are pale in comparison to what I feel for you, Charlotte. Believe me when I tell you that I do not give my heart freely.” Thranduil leaned closer. “How you managed to capture mine is beyond me.”

“That makes two of us,” she murmured, causing Thranduil to crack a smile.

He closed the distance and captured her lips, their lips slowly molding together in a delicate, yet passionate dance of intimacy. He cupped the back of her head and deepened the kiss, their lips parting as they sought to taste and savor each other.

There were so many emotions being poured into their intimate act that it almost overwhelmed Charlotte, but she could distinctly discern the truth and sincerity he was conveying, and it eased her troubled mind. She could not help but respond in kind, knowing that he had truly and fully captured her heart.

Later as they made their way back to the house, hand-in-hand and talking with comfortable ease, neither noticed a shadow concealed amongst the trees surrounding the far end of the property.

Eric lowered his binoculars, his lips curling in a cruel and deadly snarl and his eyes glinted with murderous contempt as he observed the pair entering the house.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte found herself on her back, and it certainly wasn’t in the way she wanted either.

“Concentrate, Charlotte,” Thranduil instructed, extending a long fingered hand to help her to her feet.

“I’m trying, but you you’re freakishly fast.”

“And you are too slow,” he countered as Charlotte now stood before him, strands of hair escaping her hair tie and her cheeks flushed from exertion.

“Now I’m going to come at you again and you’re going to block my attacks, just like I showed you,” he instructed in a no-nonsense tone.

Charlotte grumbled under her breath and took her position in the middle of the basement again. She felt she was improving, only finding herself flat on her arse eight times out of ten instead of ten times out of ten. She highly suspected that Thranduil was going a little easy on her today, though her aching muscles contradicted that silly notion.

Thranduil turned and faced her, his whole body radiating with coiled tension as he prepared to launch into another attack. They were currently practising hand to hand combat, and it was proving just as disastrous as sword fighting.

“Ready?”

“No.”

Thranduil smirked. “Would you like for me to go easy on you?”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “You’re up to something.”

His grin widened, showing those cute dimples. “What makes you say that, my little spider?”

Charlotte groaned at his now favorite term of endearment. “Why the hell did I tell you that story?” she muttered. “But you are up to something. You’re never nice during training.”

Thranduil started stalking towards her like a cat about to pounce its prey, and Charlotte hastily backed up, her back hitting against the wall. Thranduil was instantly upon her, pinning her arms above her head as his body pressed against hers.

“I can be very nice, Charlotte,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below her ear. Desire shot through her and Charlotte gasped at the sensation, her body yearning for more.

Suddenly Thranduil stepped back, breaking contact, and if the wall hadn’t been holding her up Charlotte would have crumpled to the floor. “But you first have to block at least one of my attacks.”

Charlotte scowled darkly at him. “You play dirty, you know that?”

“That I do,” he called over his shoulder as he sauntered away. “Now back into position.”

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte stood in the shower, the water pelting over her tired and sore muscles. Thranduil had been no easier on her than before, but now he was adding in dashes of teasing of the intimate kind. And, quite frankly, she was frustrated. Her body was a constant needy ache every time he touched her, and his methods of seduction weren’t helping much to quell those flames.

Charlotte switched off the water and stepped out of the tub, half-heartedly admiring her freshly shaved legs. _Honestly, being single was so much easier. Single…_ Charlotte gulped as the implication hit her full force. She was now entering a relationship with Thranduil, an Elvenking from the fictional world of Tolkien. The whole notion was absurd, but she could not deny that it was actually happening. And to her of all people.

Charlotte shook herself out of her musings. It was still far too early in the relationship to determine anything. Better to enjoy it while it lasted, for she knew (but loathed to admit) that Thranduil would have to eventually return to Middle Earth and she would be forced to remain here. _Best not to think about that right now_ , she thought glumly.

She glanced around and realised with an annoyed groan that she had forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom. She secured the towel around her and then took a deep breath, quietly opening the door and glancing both ways to make sure the coast was clear. _Hopefully Thranduil was downstairs doing something elfy…_

She made a bolt for her room just as Thranduil stepped out of his bedroom. Charlotte barely had time to register what was happening before she collided with the solid expanse of his chest, and would have fallen back if his arms had not caught her, pulling her securely against him.

Charlotte swallowed hard, her palms pressed against his chest and slowly lifted her gaze to meet his.

He stared down at her, his features unreadable, though there was no mistaking the darken look that shadowed his penetrating gaze.

The silence stretched between them like an elastic band and finally Thranduil asked, “Is this the part where I profess that I wasn’t looking?” A teasing smile played on his lips and Charlotte flushed as she recalled the memory of his first night here when she had fallen into the bathroom to be greeted by the sight of Thranduil wrapped just in a towel.

“I really wasn’t looking!” she squeaked, painfully aware of how close their bodies were pressed together.

Thranduil’s gaze slowly raked over her half-naked form clutched in his arms, searing every contour to memory, before his eyes locked with hers. “And neither was I.”

_Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!_

Charlotte swallowed hard as his hands trailed a scorching path up her bare arms and cupped her face between his palms, his face so close that their lips were almost brushing against each other.

“You’re making it very difficult for me to exercise self-control, Charlotte,” he murmured.

_Legs shaved – check. Go for it!_ her mind cheered happily.

“Then don’t.” This sounded bolder than what she was actually feeling inside – which was a jumble of fluttery nerves.

Thranduil narrowed is eyes marginally and then he stepped back, the distance now feeling like a gulf between them.

“All in due time, little one,” he said, dark promise lacing his deep voice and causing Charlotte to shiver.

With great force of will, he turned his back on Charlotte and walked away, knowing that if he had stayed a moment longer, he would have, indeed, crossed that line. Some things were not meant to be rushed into and he wanted the moment when he finally joined with Charlotte to be perfect. But his resolve was quickly crumbling, especially when she was running around with only a towel covering her. Not to mention those skin-tight clothes she wore during training.

_Dear Eru! Give me strength!_ He thought with an inward groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, fave and follow :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge and heartfelt thank you to everyone for your lovely reviews on the last chapter. Your words of encouragement always make my day.
> 
> When I penned out the rough draft for this chapter, I had originally planned on a few other scenes to be added in, but this particular scene just evolved until it eventually became a full blown chapter. And it got a bit…fluffy. Sorry.
> 
> Here is the next chapter – I hope you enjoy it

The following days progressed without further incident. Charlotte would arrive home from work to be greeted with a delicious home cooked meal (though she no longer enquired as to what meat was in said meals since the bunny episode). This was then followed by a gruelling training session, which Thranduil stubbornly insisted upon and would not relent.

These sessions involved lingering and tantalising caresses as he adjusted her grip on his sword, his warm breath fluttering against the back of her neck as he instructed her, and his hands were getting bolder as he gripped her hips and maneuvered her stance to the correct position. Each and every time, Charlotte would be left feeling weak-kneed and utterly breathless, wondering if his moves would ever progress to…more. It certainly didn’t help that Thranduil always appeared unaffected, and for once Charlotte yearned for that indomitable composure to slip. What she wouldn’t give to witness him acting on some of those urges he was igniting within her like a raging inferno.

This added tension, fuelled along by her frustrations that she still had not succeeded to block one of his attacks, was proving too much. To say that she was feeling cranky was an understatement.

Thursday after work, Charlotte stopped at the liquor store and picked up a case of wine, making sure to select the ones that Thranduil had deemed satisfactory. Charlotte huffed, remembering how vocal he had been about the ones that were poor substitutes and she had endured a good thirty minute detailed lecture on the best quality of wine.

As she drove back home, Charlotte thought about their progressing relationship. Their kisses were slowly becoming more bold and fervent, but Thranduil was always careful to keep things respectable (much to her vexation). She wanted to see him shatter beneath her touch, just as much as she longed to experience coming apart beneath his. But it seemed the Elvenking was unmovable in his stance about not taking things further with her beyond mere kissing and illicit caresses.

It had been snowing steadily since Sunday night and currently thick fluffy flakes were descending once more, fully blanketing the countryside in a frosty white blanket. The temperature was also dropping quite dramatically, and Charlotte sensed they were going to be in for a harsh winter.

Charlotte parked in the garage and retrieved the crate of wine from the trunk, her arms straining under the weight. The door leading to the kitchen opened and Thranduil stood on the threshold, dressed in black jeans and a crisp white button down shirt, the collar upturned and mimicking his beloved tunics. His silken hair fell over his shoulders, each strand perfectly in order as though none dared disobey and move out of place.

Thranduil took the heavy crate from her, the weight seemingly nothing to him. His eyes sparkled in unrestrained delight as he examined the contents within, and he gave a nod of approval. Charlotte wondered with amusement if she should check him into a couple of AA meetings. _That elf sure loved his wine._

“Are all elves supernaturally strong?”

“Compared to you humans, yes,” he stated simply.

“So you’re basically holding yourself back when we train?” she asked as they made their way inside. Charlotte shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her boots before turning her attention once more to the perfect specimen before her.

Thranduil placed the crate on the counter, the bottles clinking together in a musical chime, and turned his sights to her. He held out a long-fingered hand and Charlotte willingly took it, letting him draw her close to him. His arm wrapped protectively around her waist and he tucked a wild wavy lock behind her ear, his intense electric blue eyes boring into her very soul as she rested her hands against his solid chest.

“When it comes to you, there is much that I have to hold myself back from doing.”

The air became thick with the tension that was building up between them, threatening to suffocate them with the weight of their unsated and growing hunger. Her uncharacteristic boldness from Sunday night had long since fled, especially when he had made it clear that he would not cross that forbidden line until he felt the time was right. But right now, especially with his fingertips trailing feather light, yet scorching trails up her arm, she desperately wished for nothing more than for him to cast aside all inhibitions.

“I would never intentionally hurt you, Charlotte. My many years of training have taught me restraint, and I make sure to hold back when it comes to you.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” she grumbled.

A beatific smile painted his full lips at her obvious frustration. _If only she realised how much self-constraint he really was exercising…_

Thranduil ducked his head, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear and causing a fine tremble the radiate from her diminutive form.

“Go and take a nice long bath, Charlotte, and afterwards join me for dinner.”

Charlotte pulled back, a slight frown furrowing her brows. “We’re not training tonight?”

“No. I have other plans for you.”

“I’m almost scared to ask,” she retorted.

Thranduil smiled down at her and caressed her cheek. He closed the distance, his velvet soft lips brushing against hers in an almost chaste kiss, but there was nothing innocent at the passion it was igniting.

Thranduil pulled back. “Just dinner, Charlotte. Now go and get ready, and if you own a dress, may I request that you wear it.”

Charlotte cocked a brow, but gave a silent nod and went upstairs to act on his suggestion. Afterwards, she stood in front of her closet with just a towel wrapped around her as she eyed her limited selection of dresses. There were a few summer dresses, but nothing really appropriate for a formal dinner, which is what she was sure Thranduil was preparing.

Charlotte smiled fondly to herself. _Who would have guessed that the great Elvenking was such a romantic at heart?_

Her eyes landed on a little black number that she had worn two years prior to the wedding of one of Eric’s cousins. _Yes, this would do nicely_ , she thought. Charlotte pulled the dress from the hanger, a sly grin adorning her face. _Maybe it was time for her to up the ante._

ooOoo

 

Thranduil set the table and stepped back to survey his handiwork. Not for the first time he longed to be back in his mountainous kingdom with all the fineries that went along with it. This setting really was not up to par with his high standards, but he had no choice but to make the best of it.

He heard Charlotte enter the kitchen and turned to greet her warmly - and instantly froze in place.

Charlotte stood in the archway, completely and utterly transformed before his very eyes. She was wearing an elegant black dress, the soft chiffon overlapping the underskirt that skimmed just above her knees. The fitted heart-shaped bodice was an intricate weave of lace with minuscule silver beads sewn into the material, giving off a sparkling shimmer of radiance. The lace sleeves were off shoulder, giving Thranduil a perfect view of the smooth pale skin that was exposed, and a layer if chiffon stretched from sleeve to sleeve, her delicate collar bone peeking just above the filmy material.

His gaze slowly drifted lower and stopped when he noted the killer black heels that adorned her feet, giving Charlotte added height as well as adding a provocative edge to the whole look. With great effort, Thranduil dragged his gaze upwards, his eyes soaking in every inch of her. Charlotte had styled her hair into soft waves that whispered against her shoulders, and she had done her eyes to a smoky effect, making her warm hazel depths more striking. Her full lips were painted a deep red, alluring and inviting.

Thranduil, admittedly, did not care for her wearing makeup, finding it rather unnatural. But right now he could not deny that it added a striking visual that left the Elvenking perpetually speechless as his eyes widened in wonder. Charlotte truly was a vision to behold; her inner light shining through and casting all coherent thought from his mind.

Charlotte started fidgeting nervously as Thranduil still hadn’t uttered a word, and she was beginning to wonder if maybe she had gone a bit too over the top.

Thranduil raked his eyes slowly over her form once more. “What are those?” he asked, his curiosity piqued at the shoes she was wearing.

Charlotte glanced down anxiously and looked back up at him. “Um, stilettoes. I thought, since I was dressing up…I can take them off.”

“No,” he said instantly. “Keep them on. I quite like them.” His voice had dropped an octave, almost coming out as a seductive purr.

Charlotte stilled as he closed the distance, gazing down at her with that unnerving and unblinking gaze of his.

“You look beautiful, Charlotte. Just breathtaking,” he breathed out in reverence.

Charlotte flushed under the high praise, and glanced down at her wringing hands. “For a human.” _Dammit, Charlotte. Stop quoting Doctor Who!_

His fingertips under her chin drew her gaze back to his. “If I were surrounded by all the elf maidens of Middle Earth, you would stand out as surely as the Evenstar in your beauty, Charlotte,” he murmured. “For in my eyes, no one else can, or will, compare.” His eyes flickered to her red painted lips.

Charlotte surprised him with her forwardness when she closed the distance, her arms rising like a flower to the sun as she snaked her arms around her neck. His hands automatically came to rest on her waist, the flimsy material barely concealing the tender and warm flesh beneath his fingertips. Charlotte pressed her lips against his and Thranduil instantly felt himself responding in kind, their lips conforming and moving together in their heated kiss. As her fingernails scraped against his scalp, her lips parting in willingness, Thranduil knew he had to put an abrupt stop to this. After all, he did have a romantic evening planned out and nothing would stop him in this endeavor. Though Charlotte most certainly was making him rethink his plans.

Thranduil gently pushed her back, his voice sounding unnaturally hoarse. “The food is getting cold.”

“So?” she asked, just as breathless as he was.

Thranduil imperceptibly swallowed and stepped back, carefully reconstructing his composure. He took her smaller hand in his own, relishing at the flush that crept down her neck and disappeared into the lace bodice of her dress, and he briefly wondering how far down it went. _She most certainly was not making this easy for him._

“Let’s eat,” he deflected in a tone that held no room for argument. From the corner of his eye he saw Charlotte roll her eyes in exasperation, but she let him lead her to the romantically decked out table.

Charlotte’s eyes widened at the sight before her; Thranduil had been aiming for a romantic candlelit dinner and he had definitely succeeded. A crisp white tablecloth draped the table and lit candles stood tall in the centre, their flames casting a golden glow of romantic atmosphere. A bottle of wine was nestled in a bucket of ice at the end of the table, waiting to be served, and soft harmonious music played in the background.

Charlotte stood there dumbfounded, and was sure her jaw had hit the floor. Thranduil had gone to all this trouble for her, a mere human, and was trying very hard to show that he did, indeed, care deeply for her. A warm feeling enveloped her, making her feel tingly all the way to her toes, and Charlotte realised in that moment that what she felt towards him went far beyond the realms of lust. This was deeper and more poignant.

Thranduil pulled out her chair and Charlotte sat down hesitantly, smoothing out the skirt of her dress. Her gaze raked over the perfectly prepared meal of a mouth-watering steak smothered in mushroom sauce, roast potatoes flayed open and a dollop of sour cream added on top, and green beans and carrots sautéed to a crispy perfection.

Thranduil sat down and studied her reaction; Charlotte seemed floored by this gesture of a romantic dinner, and he got the distinct impression that she had not been treated to such adulating overtures in a very long time.

“This…this is amazing, Thranduil,” Charlotte exclaimed.

Thranduil smoothed his napkin over his lap and gave her a winning smile. “I told you, Charlotte: I have many talents.”

“Oh, I’m not disputing that fact,” Charlotte said, placing her own napkin on her lap. “I’m just wondering what the occasion is?”

“I do not need an occassion to treat you in a manner as you so deserve, little one.”

Charlotte just blinked at him, not knowing how to respond. Thranduil picked up the bottle of wine and after a nod of assent from Charlotte, poured them both a glass. He took a small sip and placed the glass back down before reaching over and taking her hand in his own.

“I take it this is a rare occurrence for you?”

Charlotte glanced down at their entwined fingers. “Yeah. Can’t say that I’ve exactly been wined and dined.”

Thranduil raised her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. Charlotte blushed, the innocent gesture seeming more weighted with meaning than a mere kiss should, and she took a tentative sip of her wine. The liquid burned down her throat and sent a warm glow coursing through her chest.

“Then I think it is time I remedied that,” Thranduil stated softly.

He released her hand and proceeded to tuck into his meal, and Charlotte decided to follow suit. She gave an appreciative moan as she chewed on the perfectly cooked steak, the flavor overwhelming her palate in both texture and taste. Thranduil smiled to himself as he took a sip from his wine, his eyes shimmering brightly at the sight of her enjoyment.

“So, are candlelit dinners a common custom among elves?” Charlotte was trying to picture it, but she just couldn’t. Thranduil was going against everything she had previously thought about elves, and this time was no exception.

Thranduil’s lips slowly formed into a knowing grin, his adorable dimples showing plainly. “We certainly know how to romance an intended.”

Charlotte had no doubt that this was, indeed, true.  And a dark part of her wondered if Thranduil had romanced a few ellith in his time. He certainly had the moves and knew perfectly the art of seduction. She decided she really didn’t want to know. It was no use being jealous about things that had transpired hundreds of years before she had even been born.

As dinner progressed and the wine flowed freely, Charlotte felt her inhibitions melt away and laughed openly at the stories Thranduil wove. His youth was littered with exploits of the mischievous kind and he had by no means been an innocent youngster; often causing his father great ire with his escapades. Their conversation ventured onto Legolas, and she glimpsed a kind hearted and fiercely loyal ellon who adored his father, just as much as his father adored him.

“You miss him.” This came out as a statement rather than a question.

“I do. Very much,” Thranduil agreed.

Charlotte frowned. “He must be very worried, especially with you just disappearing into thin air in the middle of a battle.”

Thranduil smiled at her concern, but he had known the truth for some time, and thus had not been overly worried.

“I was taken out of a moment in time.”

Charlotte’s frown deepened. “You’re speaking Spock right now, Thranduil.”

“Spock?”

“Star Trek.” Charlotte shook her head. “Never mind. So what do you mean by being taken out of a moment in time?”

“It means that the when I return, the event I was pulled from will resume as though no time had passed at all.”

“Are you sure? Did Galadriel tell you this?”

Thranduil shook his head once. “No. I figured it out from the residual energy left behind by her.”

Charlotte pondered his words. “So that’s why you have been so calm about all of this.”

“Yes. And I had the added benefit of having you for distraction.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I kept you highly entertained.”

“That you did, and more.” Thranduil dabbed the corners of his mouth with the napkin and stood, extending his long-fingered hand towards her.

Charlotte glanced at his hand and then up at his towering form. “What?”

“Dance with me, Charlotte.”

Charlotte found she could not deny him, especially when he gazed down at her with those hypnotic eyes that silently called out to a primal part of her. She could get lost in that gaze forever and willing never return. She took his proffered hand and let Thranduil lead her to the lounge where soft dulcet tones sounded from the stereo.

Thranduil placed his hands on her waist as her arms rose of their own accord, coming to rest on his shoulders, and soon Charlotte found herself swaying to the soft music that enveloped them in sensuality.

“How are you managing to dance in those heels?” Thranduil enquired after a while, his gaze shifting down to her feet.

“I think you have an unhealthy fascination with my stilettoes,” she remarked.

“Hmm, I think you’re right,” he commented.

Her smile widened. _Who would have guessed that Thranduil would have a high heel fetish?_

“And I think I’m enjoying your dress far more than I should.”

Charlotte giggled and realised that she was slightly tipsy, but she was enjoying herself far too much to really care. She rested her head against his chest, his arms encircling around her protectively as they swayed to the music and lulling her into a sense of tranquility.

“I’m glad you’re here, Thranduil,” she murmured.

“So am I, little one.”

“You haven’t called me little spider in a while,” she commented.

“That’s because I happened to finish the book that I found in the study.”

Charlotte pulled back and stared up at him. “Really? When?”

“About two days prior.”

“And what did you think?”

“I can honestly say that it was the first time I have ever mourned the death of a spider.”

Charlotte chuckled. “Maybe when you get back home, you can adopt one as a pet!”

Thranduil didn’t respond, but merely gazed down at her with a troubled look seeping into his features.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Charlotte asked concernedly, reaching up and resting her hand against his strong jawline.

“Come back with me.”

Charlotte blinked at the earnest plea. Thranduil really wanted her to come back to Middle Earth with him. And part of her knew she would follow him, even into the fiery depths of hell.

“Yes.”

The uncertainty bled from his face, replaced now with hope, and suddenly his lips crashed against her own. Charlotte gasped in surprise as she was suddenly hoisted up and she wrapped her arms and legs around Thranduil as he urgently sought her lips. She could feel his fingertips digging into the flesh of her thighs as he supported her, and she knew there would be bruises in the morning, but she didn’t care. Thranduil wanted her to come back with him, and that in itself spoke volumes of his feelings towards her. This was no mere desire; this was something that ran more deep and profound.

As she pulled back for air, she saw it plainly in his eyes: love. And what he glimpsed from her must have reassured him, too, for his lips melded against hers once more in promising intent, the urgency now being replaced with slow and sensual.

Thranduil returned her to the floor and Charlotte groaned in protest as he pulled away, regret showing plainly in his eyes. They had to stop right now before the invisible line was crossed.

As he gazed at her, his brows slowly furrowed together in confusion and he smacked his lips against his teeth. His nose crinkled and his lips curled back as though he had tasted something rather foul.

“What are you wearing on your lips?!”

“Lipstick.”

“That…that just tastes awful,” he said with a grimace.

_So heels were definitely a turn-on. Lipstick…big no no._

Charlotte gave him a wicked grin. “Well, it looks pretty damn good on you!”

Thranduil’s eyes widened in horror. “No,” he breathed out in a scandalised tone.

Charlotte crossed her arms, shit-eating grin still plastered on her face, and gave a nod. “Oh, yes. Go take a look in the mirror.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at her and then turned, leaving the room with a flourish. Charlotte chuckled to herself. She hadn’t been joking when she said that it looked good on him. Honestly, anything would look fabulous on the Elvenking, and lipstick was no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, fave and follow :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A HUGE thank you needs to go to everyone for all your wonderful reviews on the last chapter. I can't begin to tell you how touched I was by all your words of support and encouragement. You guys really are the best :)
> 
> Here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it :)

Friday afternoon seemed to lag on at a sluggish pace, paying no heed to the fact that Charlotte yearned to escape the confines of her office and head back home. She was currently seated at her desk, staring with unfocused eyes at her computer screen while heavy wet flakes of snow fell aimlessly outside the small square window behind her. Today she had no interest in work, and it was no wonder considering the delectable specimen of a man, err ellon, she had at home waiting for her.

Charlotte cracked a sappy smile at the thought of the enchanting Elvenking. Thranduil seemed to occupy her mind constantly and it was only now that she could freely admit to herself that she had fallen hard and fast. Of course, there would have been something seriously wrong with her if she hadn’t – she was, after all, a hot-blooded woman. But the actual shocker had been the fact that Thranduil returned those feelings. Her mind still reeled from this simple, yet not so simple, fact.

Her thoughts drifted to their ‘date’ the previous night, and how it had marked a pivotal moment in their relationship. Thranduil wanted her to return to Middle Earth with him, and she had willingly accepted without a second thought. It’s not like she had anything to tie her down to this world, and she found she was quite excited at the prospect. Not so much at leaving behind her world, but rather starting a new chapter in her life with the elf who had stolen her heart.

Five o’clock finally rolled around and Charlotte dashed out of her office like she was being chased down by the hordes of hell itself. Such was her haste that she entirely missed the flummoxed expression that graced Claire’s porcelain doll features as she bolted through the front doors.

Charlotte clambered into her car and stilled when she noted a plain brown envelope resting on passenger seat, seemingly innocent looking enough. She frowned as she wracked her brain for a plausible explanation. It could be from Carl, but she had not talked to him since the incident with Eric last week. Maybe he had discovered something that he wanted her to know _._ It was quite possible…

Charlotte contemplated opening it, but decided against it as she was more eager to return home. The envelope could wait until then.

Pizza was on the menu for tonight, as it had become a fast favourite of Thranduil’s, and he had highly suggested (more like demanded) it that morning before she had left for work.

Charlotte, still shaken from her run-in with Eric, decided to forego her usual pizzeria and instead favoured another one on the other end of town. Not that it would deter Eric from following her, but she now no longer had good memories associated with that place and chose to avoid it at all costs.

Even though she was fairly certain Eric had backed off, Charlotte kept glancing over her shoulder as she placed her order, and was on high alert as she dashed to her car afterwards. She immediately locked the door and buckled in, breathing in a shaky sigh of relief that she had encountered no problems. Her eyes drifted to the envelope once again, which seemed to beckon her to open it, but she did not fancy sitting in the parking lot any longer than she had to. Night was fast approaching, along with even more snow, and she just wanted to get home.

The journey back home was slow going as Charlotte had to drive with more care than usual as the roads were now slick with snow, but she eventually made it. After she had parked in the garage, Charlotte snatched up the envelope and the pizza order and headed inside.

Thranduil stood like a magnificent statue carved by the talented hands of Michelangelo himself, his back turned to her as he poured generous amounts of red wine into two glasses. Charlotte didn’t even bother wondering how many bottles he had gone through already, and had made peace with the fact that she’d now be a regular and well-known customer at the liquor store. They must think she was a raging alcoholic by now.

Thranduil turned around and gave her a warm smile, one which she readily returned, and he patiently waited for her to shed her winter clothing and place her handbag and the envelope on the counter.

Charlotte eyed Thranduil with appreciation as she walked over to him. He was dressed impeccably in a long-sleeved quicksilver hued dress shirt, the top two buttons undone in a seductive manner and revealing a glimpse of pale and hairless chest. He was wearing a pair of pressed black dress pants that she had bought on a whim, not really knowing if it would suit him. But as she scrutinised his form, she had to admit that he looked rather dashing and debonair, especially the way his ice blue eyes sparkled with an ethereal light and his hair hung over his shoulders like the finest silk. It was ridiculous how gorgeous he really was, and Charlotte was suddenly struck with the desire to see him dressed in a suit, complete with a satin tie. The image would not leave her be, and she knew that tomorrow would yield another shopping expedition to the mall. Might as well pick him up some plain, boring pajamas as well while she was at it, seeing as the other one had mysteriously disappeared.

“At last,” he murmured, ducking his head and placing a soft, lingering kiss on her lips before straightening and handing Charlotte her glass of wine. “I have you all to myself.”

“And now that you have me, what do you plan to do with me?” she asked innocently, though her heart was hammering in her chest at the endless possibilities. She took a sip of the wine, the austere liquid gliding smoothly over her palate with just a hint of black currents.

Thranduil’s grin widened, bringing his adorable dimples to light. _It really wasn’t fair that he was absolutely perfect in every possible way,_ she thought with a touch of envy.

But something else caught his eye, and it certainly wasn’t Charlotte.

“Ah, you got pizza!” he enthused, stepping around her to retrieve his now favourite meal, his intentions for her completely forgotten. “Did you get extra cheese and pepperoni?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes and took another sip of her wine. “How could I forget? You reminded me about half a dozen times this morning.”

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder, flashing her a cheeky grin, and her heart melted even more. It really was amazing that he was comfortable enough around her to show her this carefree and merrier side to him.

The envelope sitting next to the pizza box caught her eye and she decided now was a good a time as any to open it.

“What is that?” Thranduil asked curiously as she came to stand beside him.

“Don’t know. I found it on the seat in my car after work. I think it might be from Carl,” she murmured, heading over to the kitchen table to open it.

Thranduil gave a nod and turned back to his task of dishing up the pizza. Charlotte eyed the envelope in her hand, noting that it was thin and feather-light, as though there was hardly anything inside. She tore open the seal and upended the envelope, two photographs spilling out onto the table.

Charlotte felt a deadly chill run through her body as she stared numbly at the remains of her parents as they lay prone on the cold metal morgue table. The car crash had caused a fire, and all that remained of what had once been two living people were burnt corpses. Charred black blended with melted flesh; sinewy muscles exposed and painting a horrific and grotesque image.

Bile rose to her throat and Charlotte bolted from the table, making it just in time to the bathroom. She hunched over the toilet, emptying the acidic contents of her stomach in a sickening motion. Her body trembled with the exertion and a clammy sweat had broken out on her skin as she clutched the toilet with an iron grip.

She would never forget those haunting images, though she had worked with every fibre of her being to block out the memory of the day out when she had received the phone call that had plummeted her world into a torrent of chaos and despair. Foolishly, she had insisted on seeing the bodies, her mind still refusing to believe that it had been her parents who had been killed. The only thing she had recognised were the wedding bands on her parent’s ring fingers; the gold standing out in stark contrast with the charred black.

She had cracked that day, praying that it was all a horrible joke and that her parents would come strolling through the front doors at any moment, their happy smiles alighting their faces. But it was no cruel joke.

Now, having this kind of reminder of that day was just malicious and sickening. Her stomach violently roiled, and Charlotte clutched the rim of the toilet as she threw up again.

She was vaguely aware of soft and tender hands sweeping her hair from her face, but she had no strength left in her to feel any mortification that Thranduil was witnessing her in this state.

Finally, her stomach settled and Charlotte sat back heavily against the bathtub, her eyes closed as she panted for air. She felt a cool damp facecloth press against her forehead while his warm hand enveloped her own clammy hand.

Charlotte cracked open her eyes and found Thranduil crouched beside her, a look of deep concern etched on his features.

“Did you see the pictures?” she asked, her throat raw and hoarse.

Thranduil gave a small nod, his face solemn.

Charlotte gazed upwards at the ceiling, squinting against the bright light. “Those were pictures of my parents the day they died.”

Another tremble coursed through her body and his hand tightened around hers. Thranduil stared down helplessly at the pale, broken woman before him, and a sense of intense protectiveness came over him. He shifted closer and wrapped his arms around her, drawing Charlotte to him. Charlotte instinctively nestled closer to him, clutching tightly at his shirt as he held her against his chest, his long legs forming a protective barrier around her diminutive form.

“I’m so sorry you had to through that alone, little one,” he soothed, smoothing her hair with his hand as he spoke, his cheek resting atop of her head.

It suddenly made sense now. The memory came flooding back to him…

 

_Thranduil shifted to face her. “Why have you not fled in disgust?”_

_Charlotte gave a smile, but it was without humor. She turned her attention back to the window and the scene beyond. “I’ve…seen worse.”…_

This was what Charlotte had been referring to when he had shown her his wound. He had only but glimpsed the pictures on the table, but it had been enough to make him flinch. She had actually been there and had witnessed it first-hand. That, in itself, was more than any one person should bear.

They sat there in silence, Charlotte letting his calm and soothing presence wash over her. Finally, she pulled back, her hazel eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“There’s only one person I know who could get his hands on those pictures.”

“Eric,” Thranduil stated with icy contempt, having already pieced together the puzzle. His temper sizzled dangerously beneath the surface and in that moment he greatly yearned to get his hands on that vile excuse of a man.

Charlotte gave a small nod and Thranduil pulled her against him with an even fiercer protectiveness than before.

Thranduil pondered Eric’s reasoning for sending those pictures and he came to a blood-chilling conclusion. It was a message. And the message clearly stated: You’re next.

Thranduil was reluctant to release his hold on her, but was forced to so when Charlotte pulled back, wiping the spilled tears from her checks with the back of her hand.

“I think I need a shower,” she mumbled, her eyes downcast.

Thranduil wanted to protest, but knew that he had to respect her desire to be left alone right now. He rose gracefully to his feet, pulling Charlotte up along with him with care.

“I am here if you need me,” he assured softly, caressing her cheek lightly with his fingertips.

Charlotte gave a nod, gnawing at her bottom lip, and Thranduil gave a sigh knowing he was being dismissed. He laid a tender kiss on her forehead before he heading to the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder at the dejected looking woman who consumed his heart. He hung his head and left the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Charlotte numbly undressed and ran the shower, letting the warm water wash over her chilled body, but it did little to ease the turmoil roiling inside of her. She slid down and hugged her knees to her chest. And then she let the bitter sobs that she had been desperately holding back spill like a torrential river.

Thranduil stood outside the closed door, his forehead pressed against the rough wood and his eyes pinched closed as the sounds of her tormented cries pierced him through his very heart. He opened his eyes slowly, fighting back the urge to barge in there and sweep her into his arms and chase away all the hurt and anguish she was experiencing.

He took a deep breath through his nose and pushed away from the door. All he could do right now was be there for her when Charlotte eventually decided to come to him. In the meantime, as much as it pained him to do so, he had to honor her wishes to be left alone.

So he went downstairs and waited, the violent storm brewing inside of him. His ice blue eyes flashed with uncaged fury, and flickered to the photographs strewn across the table. He stormed over to them and shoved them forcefully back into the envelope before making his way to the old fireplace in the lounge. He flung the envelope into the cold hearth, pausing as he remembered something on television about matches and lighters being used to start fires.

A few minutes later he found a box of matches in one of the kitchen drawers and shortly after he watched with satisfaction as the envelope become engulfed in flames, eradicating all evidence that it had ever existed. But the damage had already been done.

Thranduil sat down heavily in the armchair and waited for Charlotte, his pointed ears pricking when he heard her exiting the bathroom. But she went straight to her room and didn’t come out again.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte fell into a fitful sleep and awoke in the dead of the night, gasping for air as her heart hammered painfully in her chest. She sat up and ran her hands through her tangled hair, the remnants of the chilling nightmare still clinging to her consciousness.

Those images…she could not chase them from her mind and right now all she yearned for was comfort. Peace. The bed suddenly felt icy cold and she involuntarily shivered, wrapping her arms around her middle, but she knew whose arms she wanted to be in right now that could offer her the solace she needed.

Charlotte flung back the covers and padded to her bedroom door and opened it cautiously, peeking out. The light from the bathroom was the only source of illumination that bled into the hallway, but it was enough to show her that Thranduil’s bedroom door was currently ajar, though the interior was bathed in gloom.

Charlotte bit her bottom lip, contemplating whether it would be such a good idea to go to him, and glanced over her shoulder at her own bed, which looked cold and uninviting. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the thought of returning to the nightmares that would surely come if she returned there.

She didn’t want to be alone, and it was this thought alone that gave her the courage to make her way into Thranduil’s room.

Charlotte could just make out his bed in the inky darkness, as well as the outline of his silhouette lying asleep. Before she could talk herself out of it, she made her way to the bed and crawled under the covers.

Thranduil stirred and then rolled over, and without a word being said pulled her against him as his arm snaked protectively around her middle. Charlotte sighed in a mixture of relief and contentment and snuggled closer, her back to his front. Thranduil was exactly what she needed in this moment. And part of her knew that she would always need him.

Thranduil nuzzled his nose against her hair and then kissed the top of her head as Charlotte entwined her fingers with his own. Steadily she relaxed against him, his warmth, as well as his steady heartbeat,t lulling her into a sense of security.

Her eyes suddenly flew open, her body tensing as she realised that she could not tell whether Thranduil was wearing any pajamas or not. _Why hadn’t she thought about that before coming here?!_

“Relax, Charlotte,” he murmured into her hair. “I am wearing those old pajama pants.”

Charlotte let out a whoosh of air she had been holding and she could feel Thranduil’s body shake slightly as he suppressed his mirth.

“Sleep soundly, Charlotte. I shall chase away your nightmares tonight,” he whispered in seriousness, his hushed tone echoing in the dead of the night.

“And what about the other nights?” Charlotte whispered back.

Thranduil paused, her question (and invitation) hanging heavy in the air. “Then I shall chase them away every night, if that is what you so wish.”

Charlotte let out the breath she had been holding, vaguely aware of his thumb circling lazily against their clasped hands. “I would like that.”

Thranduil kissed the back of her head again and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Charlotte smiled to herself and let his comforting presence pull her back into slumber. She would not rest easy tonight, but at least she knew Thranduil would be there to protect her. That alone was enough for her. For now.

And Thranduil, true to his word, awoke at every whimper and whispered soothing words into her ear, calming her fitful dreams as he held her close, vowing to never let her go.

 

ooOoo

 

The next morning Thranduil awoke with a start and realised that the bed was empty and bereft of Charlotte’s presence. He bolted up, the blanket falling down his waist and revealing his well-defined bare chest as he glanced around with sharp eyes. Anxiousness crept upon him and his body tensed before his ears pricked up, detecting the muffled sound of Charlotte’s voice coming from downstairs.

Thranduil swiftly stood up and absently pulled on a black cotton shirt before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

He paused in the archway and observed Charlotte with a critical eye as she talked to someone on the cellphone. She was dressed in dark blue jeans that molded nicely against her curves, and she wore a black long-sleeved turtleneck knit shirt. Her hair was a glorious mess of waves, but did little to detract from the telltale tension in her posture. Her back was turned to him and she was absently stirring her tea as she listened to whatever was being said on the other end of the call.

She turned around and stilled when she met his gaze. Thranduil’s breath caught in his throat as he marvelled at the change that had overcome his little spider. Before him now stood a woman forged with steel and deadly fire, her eyes ablaze with determination. Charlotte refused to be a victim and she was going fight back with all that she was worth. Thranduil had briefly glimpsed her inner strength many nights ago, but now he was witnessing it coming to the forefront in all its glory and his heart soared at the sight.

“Oh, and I’m going to need a crossbow,” Charlotte stated.

Thranduil raised a brow as she ended the call, placing the prepaid cellphone on the counter.

Charlotte turned her attention to Thranduil, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned her back against the counter.

“Today, Thranduil, you get to meet Carl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, fave and follow :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that left such wonderful reviews on the last chapter. It really made my week!  
> Here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it :)

Thranduil stared at Charlotte with an eerily unblinking gaze; his body still and unmoving and his face an achingly and beautifully sculpted mask. Charlotte bit her bottom lip in uncertainty as she wondered what his reaction was going to be: would he explode, chastising her for putting his life in even more peril, or would he be accepting?

Instead, Thranduil blinked once and asked, his voice a smooth, rich baritone flowing like honey over her skin, “I take it you trust Carl enough to reveal my true identity to him?”

Charlotte gave a slow nod. “I trust Carl, Thranduil. Even with your secret.”

Thranduil folded his arms in front of him, the movement precise and exact. “It is usually the ones we trust the most that cause the most betrayal, Charlotte.”

Charlotte’s hazel eyes flickered to the floor before she met his penetrating gaze full on. “True, but in Carl’s case, I know he can be trusted.”

“Really?” There was no mistaking the patronising tone lacing his words. “Care to enlighten me as to why _I_ should trust him? I don’t know the man.”

Charlotte closed the distance, placing her small hands on the lean, wiry muscles of his upper arms, but Thranduil remained unmoving as he stared down his nose at her, waiting for her answer.

Charlotte sighed. “Carl _used_ to be military. Something happened. Something that must have been pretty bad, but he is tight-lipped as to what turned him against the government.” Charlotte gazed up imploringly at the icy features of the Elvenking. “I know he will help us, not only because he is like family to me, but because it will give him a chance to spite the government he hates with a passion.”

Thranduil did not deign to reply, choosing to gaze at her impassively.

Charlotte took a deep breath through her nose and dropped her hands to her side. “I had every intention keeping your identity a secret, Thranduil, but this whole mess with Eric has forced me to call upon the one person I know who can actually help. Carl is the only one I trust enough to help us and not screw us over in the end.”

There, in those warm depths of her eyes, despite her newfound inner strength, Thranduil glimpsed the crippling fear that was driving his little spider to such extremes. He wanted nothing but to envelope her in his arms right there and then and comfort her, which is exactly what he did - much to Charlotte’s surprise. She didn’t resist, though, and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his lean chest. They stood there in companionable silence, Thranduil’s warmth enveloping her and soothing her soul.

“Are you alright, little one?”

“No,” she mumbled against his chest, her arms tightening around his middle. She pulled back enough to gaze up into his hypnotic blue eyes. “But I refuse to go down without a fight.” Charlotte paused. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t have to, Thranduil,” she said more softly.

Thranduil cupped her face between his palms, his thumb absently caressing her cheek. “I understand, Charlotte. Eric is more dangerous than originally anticipated. As much as I loathe to admit it, we are going to need all the help we can get.” Thranduil closed the distance and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead before pulling back. “But I’ll reserve judgement until I get to know Carl better.”

“Fair enough, but I should warn you that Carl can be quite…unconventional.”

“Unconventional?”

Charlotte hummed. “Yeah,” she drew out the word into a long sounding syllable. “Best to ignore his conspiracy theory spiels. Once Carl gets started on those, he can go on for hours.”

“Conspiracy theories?”

Charlotte breathed out a heavy sigh, realising that there still was so much that Thranduil did not know about this world. She stepped back and ran her hand through her messy waves.

“Carl believes that the government is behind unexplained events, and that they are covering up the truth from the public. Aliens…”

“Aliens?” A look of utter perplexity graced his luminous features.

Charlotte paused. Of course Thranduil wouldn’t know about aliens. “Um, little green men from outer space.” She cringed at the explanation. _She was so going to have to find E.T for him to watch…better not let him watch Aliens, though…_

Thranduil’s dark brows furrowed together, her description obviously not being of much help. “Are ‘aliens’ real?”

“Before I met you, I would have rolled my eyes and firmly stated that, no, aliens do not exist.”

Thranduil paused. “Are you implying that I am an…alien?”

“Um, well…you’re not human. But, no, you wouldn’t be considered an alien. At least, I don’t think so.” _Shit. Now that she thought about it, would Thranduil, an elf, be considered an alien to the rest of the world?_

“So, everyone that is not human is therefore an alien?”

Charlotte stared at Thranduil. “You know what, I think you and Carl are going to get along just fine. He’s going to absolutely love you.”

“Why do you say that?” Thranduil enquired as Charlotte went to fill the kettle to make him a cup of tea.

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder and gave him a cheeky grin. “Because you have just proven that there are other life forms besides humans. You are like the Holy Grail of the conspiracist world.”

“Holy Grail?”

Charlotte groaned, deciding that she needed tea in her before she could answer all his questions.

 

ooOoo

 

Two hours later (and many cups of tea to go along with it), Thranduil felt as though his mind was drowning under all the information Charlotte had given him. _What kind of odd world had Galadriel decided to thrust him into? Aliens…what an odd description Charlotte had given him of these fictional beings. And then there was her watered-down explanation of religion and beliefs, as well as a brief history of her world._ He just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it all.

Thranduil stilled, cup of tea clasped between his hands resting on the table, as he detected the sound of a vehicle coming up the driveway.

“Someone is coming,” he stated.

“That would be Carl,” Charlotte said, relief showing plainly on her face, though it was mixed with apprehension. As she stood, Charlotte cast her eyes towards Thranduil. “It’s best to take Carl with a grain of salt, Thranduil. He’s a good man, but he has absolutely no filter.” She gave a nervous laugh, wondering if this was such a good idea. If Eric hadn’t forced her hand, she would have never even contemplated introducing Thranduil to Carl. _Too late now…_

Thranduil stood in a fluid motion. “I’ll go and get dressed into something more appropriate.” He left the kitchen, his movements like that of a graceful dancer, and his steps making absolutely no sound whatsoever. It still unnerved Charlotte how silently he could move about.

A few moments later there was a loud, hard rap on the door and Charlotte swallowed hard. She was nervous about the introduction that was to ensue, as well as the reaction Carl was going to have towards Thranduil. She took a calming breath and made her way to the front door.

Charlotte opened the door and couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread over her face at the sight of the man who was almost like an uncle to her. Even though she had barely seen much of him over the years, Carl had not changed much. His sandy-brown hair was cropped short and thinning at the top, and his thick beard was as scraggly as she remembered; though it was now peppered with grey, along with his hair. His six-foot frame had once been that of a soldier, but muscle had now turned to fat, and his paunchy belly told the story of too much beer and hard liquor, as well as an unhealthy diet that consisted of way too many McDonalds. The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose was new, though. _His eyesight must have really gotten bad for him to even entertain the idea of wearing them,_ she thought.

Carl was wearing faded blue jeans paired with white sneakers, and a large, baggy tan windbreaker that could not disguise his straining belly. Charlotte knew for a fact that there was a Hawaiian shirt underneath that windbreaker; she could not recall a time where she had ever seen him in just a plain shirt. In the summertime he could often be seen with cargo shorts, his favored Hawaiian shirt and flip flops.

In one beefy hand was clutched a black duffel bag, and in the other was a case of beer (old habits die hard), and Charlotte spotted the crossbow slung across his back, along with his tattered backpack.

“Carl,” she greeted warmly.

“Charlotte, my dear,” Carl boomed in his gruff voice.

Charlotte stepped aside to allow him entrance, and Carl had to shuffle in sideways with his cumbersome load.

The duffel bag, backpack and crossbow were dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, though the beer was placed down with more care, as though he were handling a newborn baby.

Carl straightened and immediately enveloped Charlotte in a bone-crushing hug, lifting her right off the floor. Charlotte chuckled and wrapped her arms around his thick neck to hug him back. Carl placed her back on the floor and held her at arm lengths as he looked her over. His intelligent green eyes gave her a knowing look and he patted her shoulder reassuringly.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and you can tell me all about it,” he said more softly, stooping to pick up the beer.

“There’s something I should warn you about first, Carl,” she said, crossing her arms across her belly.

It was in that moment that Thranduil decided to make his presence known, gliding with effortless ease down the stairs and coming to stand beside Charlotte. He practically oozed ethereality and nobility, and even though he was dressed in black jeans and a simple charcoal grey shirt, his whole bearing outed him as different. Thranduil took Charlotte’s hand in his own, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Carl blinked in surprise and his gaze slowly swept over the Elvenking, mentally taking notes as he took his time to scrutinise his form. His eyes widened fractionally at the pointed ears peeking through the glorious mane of silvery hair, and his lips pressed into a thin line when he noted the ethereal blue of Thranduil’s eyes; eyes that were most certainly not human. His face went blank when he observed their clasped hands, putting two and two together.

“Carl, I would like you to meet, Thranduil, the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm. You know, from Middle Earth…”

Charlotte trailed off, winding a lock of her hair around her finger in a nervous gesture. A thought came to her and she quickly assessed whether Carl was carrying a weapon. She couldn’t see one in plain sight, but she was dead certain that one (or two) were hidden somewhere. Carl was not the type to hesitate using his weapon.

Carl slowly turned his head to look at her and then turned his attention back to the Elvenking, who was watching him guardedly, his whole body taut and ready to spring into action.

He raised a hand and scratched thoughtfully at his beard. “Well, you certainly know how to pick ‘em, Charlotte,” he said gruffly, his Southern twang coming to the forefront.

“Um…Carl, you do understand that Thranduil is from the Tolkien universe?” Charlotte stopped. She had expected things to be awkward and difficult, but this nonchalance was completely unforeseen. _Had he already started drinking? A drunk Carl was difficult to talk sense into._

Carl waved a hand dismissively. “Charlotte, my girl, I have seen a lotta crazy shit in my years. Pointy ears ain’t exactly impressive. Now if he had been an actual alien - now that would have been somethin’ else entirely!” he said with a grin before walking to the kitchen with his beer firmly clutched in his hand.

Charlotte and Thranduil shared a confused look.

“Well…that went better than expected,” she mused.

“For now,” Thranduil stated.

Deciding there was nothing to it, they followed the burly man.

 

ooOoo

 

“Now, best start from the beginning, Charlotte, my dear. And don’t leave out any details,” Carl said as he packed his beer in the fridge, wrinkling his nose with distaste at the bottles of wine lined up in a neat row. He closed the fridge door, cracking open a can as he lumbered over to the two who were now seated at the table. The chair creaked dangerously beneath his voluminous girth as he sat down, but he seemed to not notice. His windbreaker had been shed, revealing that he was, indeed, wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt.

Charlotte licked her lips nervously, and recounted the whole story back to Carl, from the time Thranduil appeared on her lawn right up to the photos Eric had sent her.

“Didn’t you lock your car?”

“Yes, I always lock it, Carl. Eric got in somehow.”

Carl pressed his lips into a thin line, though it was hard to tell amongst his bushy beard. “You still have those pictures?” he finally asked.

“No, I burnt them,” Thranduil stated in his melodious voice.

Carl huffed. “Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are ya?”

“I beg your pardon?” Thranduil said with indignation.

“Carl,” Charlotte interrupted, sensing a few choice words were going to be exchanged between the two. “Thranduil doesn’t know about forensic evidence. And besides, it wouldn’t help in any case. I can’t exactly call the authorities because if they came here and saw Thranduil,” she said rolling her head in Thranduil’s direction, “they would cart him away.”

Carl took a noisy slurp from his beer can, wiping the yeasty foam from his beard and mouth with the back of his hand. Thranduil resisted the urge to curl his lip back in disgust. _This man, if it weren’t for his height, could easily pass for a dwarf. Manners and all._

Carl carefully placed his can on the table, his shrewd green eyes staring thoughtfully at the condensation forming on the side of the can.

“What you have told me about Eric and his behaviour has me very concerned,” he finally said. “He is upping the threat level and it won’t belong before he finally makes a move, Charlotte.”

Charlotte nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been making preparations and have been withdrawing some money every few days.”

“Good. But you’re going to need more if you are forced to go on the run. Normally, I would call in my backup, but with elf-boy in the picture, that’s not gonna fly. So, when the time comes, go on the run and into hiding, Charlotte, and I’ll take care of Eric.”

Charlotte was silent for a few minutes, a worried expression forming on her features. Finally, she looked up at Carl. “Do you think it’s possible that Eric had something to do with the death of my parents?”

Carl’s eyes hardened like glinting shards of glass. “Before now, I wouldn’t have suspected it, but now I’m considering it a possibility. I’ll do some digging.”

Charlotte nodded, appeased. She knew Carl would be like a hound dog, relentless in his search for what actually happened that day.

Carl scraped his chair back and hefted himself up before going to the foyer and retrieving his stuff.

“Who is this for?” he asked as he entered the kitchen, brandishing the crossbow.

“Thranduil,” Charlotte supplied.

“I already have a bow,” Thranduil pointed out.

“Yeah, but a crossbow is better.”

“In what way?” Thranduil challenged, crossing one leg over the other and steepling his fingers in front of him.

“Because,” Charlotte said, rising to her feet and taking the bow from Carl, “I can then imagine that you’re Daryl Dixon.” A dreamy look overcame her face; a look that Thranduil did not quite like.

Carl let out a snort and Thranduil shot him a look before turning his attention back to Charlotte. “Who?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Never mind. This more powerful than a regular bow, Thranduil.”

Thranduil wanted to disagree, but decided to remain silent for the time being, mainly because he was still trying to figure out who Daryl Dixon was.

Carl hefted the duffel bag onto the table and unzipped it. He then unloaded its contents, which consisted of two more guns (this time with silencers), boxes of bullets, bundles of cash, another phone, as well as a GPS.

“You still have the other guns I sent you?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said, placing the crossbow on the counter. She then came to sit next to Thranduil and elaborated. “One is in the drawer next to my bed and the other is in my handbag.”

Carl gave a nod of approval. “Good. Now keep this bag hidden, somewhere where you can easily get to it if you need to get out in a rush.” Carl sat down heavily. “I will work on my side to deter the bastard, but if my efforts don’t work and you are forced to go on the run, give me a call with that phone. It’s untraceable. The GPS will direct you to a safe location that I have set up for you.”

“Thank you, Carl,” Charlotte said with sincerity.

Carl waved away her thanks, his focus more on his beer. Charlotte placed the duffel bag alongside the crossbow. She would find a safe location for it later.

“Now, boy,” Carl said, his steely gaze boring into Thranduil as he leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him.

Thranduil blinked. _Was this man actually referring to him as a boy?_ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charlotte clamp her hand over her mouth, her face turning bright red as she tried in vain to suppress her laughter. He turned his attention fully to her, his eyes narrowing fractionally. Charlotte dropped her hand and mouthed the word ‘boy’ before clamping her hand back over her mouth, her body shaking with suppressed giggles.

“I want to know what your intentions are towards Charlotte?”

Thranduil turned his attention back to the burly man before him, ensuring his face was a blank mask. Carl was obviously sizing him up, trying to determine if he was worthy enough.

“My intentions towards Charlotte are nothing but honorable.” _Mostly._

Carl narrowed his eyes, clearly not satisfied with this answer. “And if you manage to find a way back to your world? What then?”

Thranduil didn’t hesitate. “I have already asked Charlotte to join me, and she has accepted.”

Carl blinked and leaned back in his chair; the fight momentarily taken from him.

“How serious are things between you two?”

“Very,” Thranduil stated firmly. Charlotte, now composed, came to sit beside him and he took her smaller hand in his own. He turned his attention to her and knew that he would never leave her behind. Charlotte had become his world.

Silence descended as Carl studied the two, and he must have seen something there that reassured him. “Maybe it’s just as well, Charlotte.” He didn’t elaborate further as he pulled his backpack onto his lap and produced an insanely huge bottle of whiskey and a box of cigars.

Charlotte groaned. “Carl.”

“What?” he asked innocently. “You can’t deny me a few simple pleasures in life.”

“Yeah, I can. You’re not smoking those things inside here.”

Carl huffed indignantly and grumbled something along the lines of ‘temperamental women’. He then glanced up at Thranduil, a wicked gleam in his eye. “C’mon, boy. Let’s see what you’re made of,” he said. Carl pushed his hefty form from the table and picked up the crossbow from the counter, handing it to Thranduil who took it with great reluctance. Carl then shrugged on his windbreaker and shoved the box of cigars in his pocket. Lastly, he grabbed the whiskey bottle and motioned with his head for Thranduil to follow him outside.

Thranduil glanced at Charlotte, a brow raised questioningly.

Charlotte gave him a reassuring smile. “I think Carl has taken a liking to you.”

“Are you certain?” Thranduil found this bit of information difficult to believe.

“Yeah. If he didn’t, he would have the crossbow in his hand instead and shoot you as soon as you stepped outside.” Her broad grin showed that she was joking, but he felt little reassurance. Thranduil was not intimidated, by no means, but he wanted to avoid any confrontation with the man who was like family to Charlotte.

Sensing that it would be prudent to do as he was bid, not to mention that he was curious about this man, Thranduil followed Carl outside.

Carl was waiting for him, inhaling deeply on his lit cigar. Thranduil inconspicuously stepped to the side to avoid the foul-smelling smoke, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Do you smoke?” Carl asked.

“I can’t say, in all my seven thousand years, that I ever have,” Thranduil replied flatly.

If this bit of news bothered Carl, he didn’t show it. He took another puff, his sharp eyes constantly surveying his surroundings. Thranduil was starting to glimpse a very intelligent and observant mind, never missing a detail and always on the lookout for potential danger. This man was no fool, despite what his outer appearance might suggest.

“Charlotte…I’ve known her since she was a little itty-bitty baby, wailing like a banshee from the get-go. I love her like she’s my own niece, and it just about killed me to see her lose everything when her parents died.” Carl turned to Thranduil, giving him a pointed look. “I don’t want to see her hurt again.”

Thranduil shifted so that he was now face-to-face with Carl. “I have sworn to never harm Charlotte. Believe me when I tell you that it is a vow I will not forsake.”

“Do you love her?”

Thranduil was taken aback by the brusque question. In truth, he barely knew Charlotte, yet it felt as though he had known her his whole life. There was no denying the burning passion had yielded to a more deep-rooted emotion that was now clearly love. She had come to encompass his whole being, his whole world: his blazing light that chased away the darkness.

“Yes,” he answered truthfully.

Carl studied the elf before him as he puffed on his cigar. Finally, he turned his gaze back to the line of woods surrounding the property.

“I suppose you're good enough,” he murmured. He snuffed out the cigar and unscrewed the lid on the whiskey bottle, taking a swig straight from it. Then he thrust the bottle towards Thranduil. “Here, this’ll loosen ya up, boy.”

Thranduil eyed the bottle and was about to politely refuse, but Carl spoke again, his voice quieter.

“I will not always be around to protect Charlotte, and it’s good to know that she has someone like you watching out for her.” Carl paused, taking in a deep breath. “I didn’t want to say anything back there, but I know my help can only go so far. Eric, being CIA, is in a whole different league altogether. Untouchable even. The bastard…” Carl shook his head, whether from anger or despair, Thranduil couldn’t tell. “I need to know that you’ll protect Charlotte with everything you have. She is the most precious thing in this world.”

Thranduil studied the earnest plea in the aging man’s face. He inclined his head in a graceful half-bow. “You have my word, Carl.” Thranduil took the bottle from his proffered hand and eyed it sceptically before taking a tentative sip. The fiery liquid burned down his throat all the way to his chest, leaving a heated trail. His eyes watered and he spluttered out a few coughs, much to the amusement of Carl, who thumped him on the back.

“You’ll get used to it. Come. Let’s go practise a few shots and get ourselves hammered!”

Thranduil grimaced at the bottle in his hand, wondering if this was such a good idea.

 

ooOoo

 

A few hours later, Charlotte glanced up from the book she was reading on the sofa, her brows shooting up to her hairline as she watched Thranduil walk with deliberate, and slightly unsteady steps towards her. He plonked himself down heavily beside Charlotte and leaned his head back against the couch.

“Did you two have fun?” she asked innocently, though she knew full well they had. She had observed them from the kitchen window, watching amusedly as they had built a bonfire and had sat around it drinking and chatting as the hours wore on.

Thranduil opened his eyes slowly and angled his head slightly to look at her.

“Are you sure Carl isn’t a dwarf?”

“Not as far as I know. Why?”

Thranduil stared up at the ceiling. “He sure can drink like one.”

Charlotte chuckled. “I think he’s just happy to have found a drinking buddy that can actually keep up with him.”

“I pride myself with my constitution for alcohol consumption, Charlotte, but even I was finding it difficult to keep up with him.” Thranduil paused, a lazy smile gracing his lips. “He’s a good man, but what is his obsession with aliens? That’s all he talked about for the last few hours.”

Charlotte closed her book and shifted in her seat, staring at the elf before her. His luminous face was slightly flushed, and his glorious hair was somewhat mussed.

“No idea. Where is he anyway?”

“I think he went and claimed my bed as his own for the night.”

This didn’t surprise her. “Well then, I guess you’ll have to share my bed.”

Thranduil turned his darkened gaze towards her, predatory and promising. “I had every intention of doing just that, little one.”

Thranduil captured her lips in a searing kiss, ignited with burning desire and intent. Longing coiled deep inside her and she responded with fervour. Charlotte felt herself being gently pushed back down on the sofa, the kiss deepening and becoming something more promising. Fingers entangled in hair as they hungrily tasted each other, the heat and passion consuming them as their bodies molded together in a sense of desperation.

“Let’s go to bed,” Thranduil murmured against her mouth.

“But…it’s not even five in the afternoon,” she protested feebly.

Thranduil stared down at her with a smouldering look, and she was infinitely grateful that she was lying down, for her knees would have surely buckled beneath her right there and then.

“Who says we have to sleep?”

Charlotte gulped, but secretly she was quite enjoying this tipsy version of the Elvenking.

Suddenly an icy blast of air coursed through the room.

“Did you guys lock the door?”

“I think that may have been overlooked,” he said, a tad bit sheepishly.

Charlotte pushed against his chest and stood up, followed by a few grumbles of protest from Thranduil.

“Let me just lock up and I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder. Charlotte shivered as she closed and locked the door, noting the sky darkening as it prepared for night.

She paused when she entered the living room. Thranduil was sprawled face down on the sofa, his long legs dangling over the other end, and a graceful arm draped over the side, his fingers brushing against the floor. He was clearly passed out. The strands of fine silky hair that had fallen over his face fluttered with each exhale, his features relaxed and peaceful as he slept.

Charlotte smiled fondly at the sight, but then frowned. She had never seen Thranduil drunk, regardless of how much wine he had consumed. She headed back to the kitchen and picked up the empty whiskey bottle, recoiling when she took a tentative sniff. It was no wonder the both of them were smashed - Carl had filled the bottle with moonshine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, fave and follow :)


	21. Chapter 21

Thranduil groaned as he opened his eyes, his mind feeling somewhat sluggish as he tried to wake from the thick sludge of alcohol-induced sleep. The incessant headache, as well as the far too bright light that filtered through the window, told the familiar tell-tale signs of a hangover. _By the Valar, it had been a while since he had experience such a sensation! That was some potent stuff Carl had in his possession!_

Thranduil blinked a few times to clear his head and finally sat up with caution, flinging aside the blanket Charlotte had draped over him during the night. Thankfully, Carl’s ‘whiskey’ was not as inebriating as Dorwinion, and he was not suffering the severe after effects as much as he would have been if they had spent the day consuming the elvish wine. Still, his head felt as though a dull drum was beating an annoying and incessant tempo against his skull, ceaseless in its torment. Not to mention that his mouth felt as though it were stuffed with cotton.

Voices from the kitchen alerted him to the fact that he had slept in far later than usual - he had even out slept Charlotte, and that was saying something! Disappointment laced through him at the realisation that he had probably slept alone last night, and he recalled that he had been quite looking forward to sharing Charlotte’s bed. _Curse Carl’s ‘whiskey’!_

Thranduil rubbed the last remnants of sleep from his face and stood. Dorwinion wine would have, without a doubt, left him in far worse shape, so he considered himself quite lucky that he was quite functional.

Thranduil made his way to the kitchen. Charlotte and Carl were sitting at the table, Charlotte nursing a cup of tea and Carl had a foul looking glass of thick red liquid sitting in front of him. Charlotte noticed his appearance first and gave him a warm smile that lit her face with a radiance that he felt drawn to each and every time. Thranduil returned her smile and came to sit down next to her, clasping her smaller hand in his own.

“So, Sleeping Beauty has finally woken up. Nice of you to join the land of the living,” Carl muttered, his head clutched in his beefy hands, not bothering to look up at the elf.

“You woke up only fifteen minutes ago,” Charlotte pointed out.

Carl gruffly muttered something unintelligible under his breath, his words too thick for Thranduil to make out, though he was certain that Carl, in his own way, was giving Charlotte a piece of his mind.

Charlotte grinned and took a sip of her tea. She turned her attention to Thranduil. “Want a cup?”

“Please,” he replied, eager for a bit of rejuvenation that only a good cup of tea could offer at this very moment.

Charlotte went to prepare him some tea while Thranduil turned his attention back to the bedraggled man in front of him.

“Here, try this,” Carl stated, sliding the glass of the thick red sludge towards Thranduil.

“Past experience has taught me to exercise caution with regards to what you now offer me to drink,” Thranduil replied diplomatically.

Carl chuckled, the sound reverberating from deep within his chest. Finally, he dropped his hands from his head and stared back at Thranduil with puffy and tired looking eyes, though they gleamed with amusement.

Thranduil, curiosity getting the better of him, picked up the glass and raised it to eye-level, scrutinising the unappealing looking liquid within. “What is it?”

“Hair of the dog hangover cure.”

Thranduil arched a brow, directing his silent and questioning look towards Carl.

“Ah, of course…you wouldn’t know about that. It’s a cocktail consisting of tomato juice, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, and vodka. Though, Charlotte had no vodka so I had to substitute it with wine, seeing as we drank all the good stuff last night.” Carl pulled a face as though this was an abomination that rocked him to his very core.

Thranduil took a tentative sniff, wrinkling his nose in distaste and put the glass back down in front of Carl.

“I’ll pass.”

Carl sighed heavily. “I guess there’s no putting it off then.” Thranduil watched with rapt fascination as the man lifted the glass to his lips and downed it in a few noisy gulps. Carl clanked the glass down on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ugh! I definitely should have added vodka. Pansy-assed wine just don’t cut it.”

Charlotte returned, placing the cup of tea in front of Thranduil, who gave her a warm smile of thanks and took a sip. The hot, infusing liquid cleared his mind to manageable proportions, more so than what Carl’s concoction would have.

“Next time don’t drink so much, then you won’t have to suffer like this the next morning,” Charlotte scolded playfully.

“You know, Charlotte, I’m starting to think you have very little empathy for my plight.”

“Your pain is self-inflicted, Carl. You’re not going to get any sympathy from me,” she countered.

Carl huffed, though Thranduil could tell it was all for show. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Whatever I cook.”

Carl groaned, clasping his head in his hands again. “Dear sweet merciful Lord. Have pity on my wretched soul.”

Thranduil grinned openly at the man before him; Carl had clearly sampled Charlotte’s cooking in the past.

Carl, lifting his head, caught his eye and gave Thranduil a wink. “I see you’ve had the misfortune of experiencing Charlotte’s…cooking, as well.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Charlotte stated, her tone slightly annoyed now.

Just then a shrill ping sounded from the general direction of Carl, and the man shifted and grunted as he dug in his pockets for his cellphone. Carl squinted at the screen and then fished for his glasses in the confines of his shirt pocket, perching it onto his red-hued nose as he read the message.

“Well, the good news is that Eric is behaving and didn’t leave his house last night.”

“You have surveillance on him?” Charlotte asked, sitting up straighter, her features suddenly alert.

“Of course. You didn’t think I would get blindingly drunk without ensuring that Eric was being taken care of?”

“Um…yeah. It’s something I wouldn’t put past you.”

Carl waggled a sausage-like finger at her. “Ye of little faith. I’ll have you know that I have always taken your safety very seriously, Charlotte dear.”

Charlotte gave him a small smile. “Yes, that you have.”

“Now, that being said, I need to take my safety seriously and I insist that you vacate the kitchen and do not attempt to cook anything!”

Charlotte’s smile quickly turned to that of a scowl, which only made Carl chuckle. Thranduil was finding himself hard-pressed not to burst into laughter, either. Charlotte was absolutely adorable when she was angry, and hardly conjured any fear into the person at whom her ire was directed at.

Carl rose from his chair and as he passed Charlotte, he ruffled her hair, making it more of a mess than it already was, and ambled over to the fridge.

“What would your royal highness like?” Carl called out.

“Depends…can I trust your culinary skills?”

“If you can survive Charlotte’s cooking, then you’ll most definitely survive mine,” Carl stated as he straightened, carton of eggs clutched in his grasp.

Charlotte stood, sighing with exasperation. “I think I’ll go and get changed.”

Carl’s grin widened. “Aww, leaving already?”

“Yeah, I’m kinda getting tired of being mad fun of.”

“Hmm, I think I should tell Thrandy boy here some of your childhood exploits!”

“Carl, don’t you dare!” she warned.

Thranduil leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him and a mischievous glint in his eye. _This was most certainly going to prove entertaining._

Carl held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fine. I will not recount embarrassing tales of your youth.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, and Thranduil didn’t need to be an elf to tell that the man was clearly lying and had every intent of doing the opposite of what he promised not to do.

Charlotte glowered at Carl but decided it best to leave. As she exited the kitchen, she heard Carl give a hearty chuckle and exclaim, “The kitchen, and our digestive systems, are safe now, boy!”

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte dressed in dark blue jeans and a cornflower blue long-sleeved top with a scoop neck. She had tamed her unruly hair into a braid and had applied a light shadow of makeup, making sure to forego the lipstick.

When she made her way back to the kitchen, the table was spread with platters of bacon, eggs, sausages and toast. Thranduil was seated, looking very much his regal and impeccable self, even though he was still wearing the clothes from yesterday. A crisp white napkin was spread over his lap as he cut his food into bite-sized pieces. Carl, on the other hand, had a sausage speared onto his fork, and Charlotte watched as he chomped down on one end, the grease drizzling down onto his beard.

Charlotte tilted her head to the side, clearly seeing why Thranduil had confused Carl for a dwarf.

“An’ then there was a blood curdling scream, enough to make milk curdle, and in comes Sam running like the hounds of Hell were hot on his heels. The whole party went dead quiet, and then who should come in, but Charlotte butt naked, covered from head to toe in mud and growling like the swamp monster she was impersonating. Poor Sam. I don’t think the kid ever recovered from that ordeal.”

Charlotte groaned. “You’re not telling that story again are you, Carl?” _At least he hadn’t bought out the photo albums…there were some pictures Charlotte really didn’t want Thranduil to see._

Carl shrugged, unperturbed. “I have to. There’s still the mystery of what happened to your clothes. They were never found, not even to this day.”

“And why were you naked?” Thranduil asked. He was starting to think this was becoming a habit of Charlotte’s.

Charlotte came to sit down next to him. “I was only six years old, so who knows what my reasoning was back then.”

“I’ll tell ya, though, I’ve never heard a boy squeal like a little girl the way Sam did.”

“It couldn’t have been too bad,” Charlotte stated. “We dated briefly in middle school.”

“Well,” Carl said with all seriousness. “It certainly explains why he moved across the country and was never heard from again!”

Charlotte pulled a face at Carl, which only served to make him laugh harder. Thranduil found himself thoroughly enjoying the familiar and playful banter between the two, and he could not help but grin along as a lightness enveloped him like the warm, soothing rays of the sun.

After breakfast was finished, Carl leaned back in his chair, patting his ample belly in satisfaction. “Well, I’d best be off. There’s a couple of things I need to take care of before I head back home.” He became more serious as he looked pointedly at Charlotte. “Be on your guard, Charlotte. I’ll have someone tailing Eric from now on, but you call me if anything happens. Understood?”

“Yes, Carl. And thank you for everything.”

But Carl’s attention was now turned to Thranduil. “And I expect you to look after my little girl. If not, there won’t be enough pieces of you to send back to Middle Earth.”

Thranduil kept his face carefully neutral in the face of this ludicrous threat - he could easily cut down the burly man with one strike. But he understood that Carl’s deep concern stemmed from a protectiveness reserved for kin and loved ones, and as he peered at the human, he glimpsed all that in his features, and none of the threat that his words promised.

Thranduil inclined his head. “You have my word, Carl.”

Carl gave a brusque nod and stood, a silent indication that he was now leaving. Charlotte and Thranduil rose in unison and Carl came to stand before the Elvenking, frowning slightly when he had to look up at the much taller being.

Carl thrust out his hand and Thranduil took it after a moment’s hesitation; he had come to trust this human in such a short span of time, and he rather prided himself at being a good judge of character.

Thranduil barely had time to react when Carl pulled him into a ‘manly’ hug, and his eyes widened at the familiarity being shown towards him. Carl patted his back and pulled away.

“I’ll see ya around, boy.”

“I look forward to it…just as long as you bring some more of that drink next time,” Thranduil replied smoothly, his crystalline blue eyes sparkling in anticipation.

Carl chuckled and turned to Charlotte. “I like this one.”

“Me, too,” Charlotte confirmed, shooting Thranduil a suggestive grin.

“I’ll just bet you do,” Carl mused, screwing his face into that of mild disgust. Then he dragged Charlotte into a bone-crunching embrace. “Be safe, my girl,” he said more softly before pulling away and grabbing his backpack from the counter.

Thranduil watched with a sensation of heaviness as Charlotte walked with Carl to the front door to see him off. He couldn’t quite name the eerie sensation that befell him, but he sensed that this would be the last time he would see Carl, a man whom he had grown quite fond of regardless of the fact that he was more akin to dwarf than man.

_Maybe race should not dictate with whom he should be friends with…_

Thranduil blinked. _Where had that thought come from?_ He had to admit that it unsettled him, for there was a weighty truth to it. Maybe his time here was aiding with a certain form of self-reflection, for a mere few weeks ago he would never have entertained the idea of forming a relationship with a human. But here he was, having freely given his heart to Charlotte. And now he had formed a solid friendship with a man who could easily pass for a dwarf. _Was this what Galadriel intended?_ _Would this be the expectation of him when he returned to Middle Earth?_ The image of Dain came to mind and he shuddered at the thought. _Okay_ , _maybe not friendship, but rather tolerance…_

“You seem lost in thought,” Charlotte said from the archway, causing Thranduil to break from his inner musings, and he turned his attention towards her. Charlotte was leaning her shoulder against the wall, her arms crossed as she studied him. She must have seen something in his face, for she came over and clasped his hands in her own. “What’s wrong?”

Thranduil blinked once. “I fear I might be going soft in my old age.”

Charlotte quirked a smile. “That’s not such a bad thing, but I don’t think you’re going soft. I think that underneath that frosty exterior there has always been a softer and more caring side that you’ve had to repress.”

Thranduil stared down his nose at her, his features hard like alabaster. Then he sighed in defeat. “Soft-heartedness is a luxury I can ill afford, especially in my position as ruler of my kingdom.”

Charlotte cupped his face between her palms, her skin smooth and soft; her gentle touch conveying love and tenderness.

“You can be yourself here, Thranduil. With me.”

As he stared down at her, Thranduil realised that he truly could be himself with his little spider. There were no restrictions or barriers in this world. Here, with her, and he could love her openly and honestly without fear or consequence. _Would he revert back to who he used to be when he returned to Middle Earth?_ Gazing into those warm hazel depths, Thranduil knew that he would strive to remain the ellon Charlotte had fallen in love with, though Charlotte had a knack of bringing out this side of him. And he loved her for it.

Thranduil placed a hand on the small of her back and drew her closer to him, his other hand cupping the back of her head. He lowered his head, his hair falling over his shoulders to frame his features in a silvery gossamer curtain. He brushed his nose against hers and he closed his eyes at the intensity of the moment overwhelmed him.

“ _Gi melin (I love you)_ , Charlotte,” he breathed out in a hushed vow, his words fluttering against her slightly parted lips. He opened his eyes slowly, letting the truth show plainly on his features.

Charlotte blinked, comprehending that he was telling her something important. This moment was monumental, seeded with a truth that was almost too painful to bear witness to, though she had no idea what it was exactly.

“What does that mean?” she whispered.

“One day I will tell you, _meleth n_ _î_ _n_ _(my love)_.” Thranduil cupped her face between his hands, his touch gentle and intimate.

His lips brushed against hers in a featherlight motion, and Charlotte felt her body start to tremble with the flood of emotions that such a small act could ignite. Thranduil angled her head and deepened the kiss, taking his time as he savoured and tasted her, ingraining this moment forever to memory. Charlotte melted into the kiss, her body becoming plaint beneath his experienced hands, and she rose on tippy-toes, weaving her fingers through his hair as she returned the kiss with an equal fervor. As the kiss intensified, Thranduil felt it – Charlotte was pouring her love into this moment just as much as he was.

This moment of clarity stole his breath and Thranduil pulled back to stare down at her with wonder. She made him feel so much and with such intensity. Charlotte was showing him how to live and breathe again. She was giving meaning to his life.

“Say you’ll be mine,” he whispered.

“I already am,” she whispered back, her voice slightly shaky.

Her words echoed into the deepest recesses of his being. She was burning down his every defence, and he relished and welcomed it. His words from not too long ago echoed back to him: _I fear that your fire will consume me and burn me to ashes, Charlotte, and there is little I can do to stop it._

He was starting to realise how poetically true those words were.


	22. Chapter 22

Later that evening, Thranduil stepped into the living room to find Charlotte seated on the sofa, staring intently at the television screen and a tub of something cushioned between her crossed legs. She was dressed in fuzzy, lime green pajamas with caricatures of bananas with nightcaps nestled on their heads. _Where did she find such items of clothing?_ he thought to himself, not for the first time.

Thranduil came to sit next to her, but she barely glanced his way, her attention currently captivated by the movie that was playing. Thranduil watched as she scooped something white and creamy looking from the tub and absently plopped it into her mouth.

“What are you watching?” he asked after a few moments of silence passed between them, save for the sounds coming from the television.

“The Addams Family. I like to watch it when I’m feeling a bit down,” she replied after swallowing her mouthful of whatever she was eating.

Thranduil turned his attention to the screen, which now showed dark images of what he presumed to be this ‘Addams Family’. Then a seductively alluring woman with pale moonlit skin and sleek, flowing black tresses glided down the stairs, and Thranduil found himself becoming utterly engrossed with the movie from that point on. So much so, that it took him a whole twenty minutes to realise what Charlotte had actually said. He guessed that her current mood stemmed from the departure of the larger-than-life Carl. He would be hard-pressed to willingly admit that a small part of him did, indeed, miss the unconventional man.

“Are you missing Carl?” he asked.

Charlotte dipped her spoon back into the tub and hummed in agreement as she ate another mouthful. Pulling the spoon from her mouth, she swallowed and said, “Yeah, I am. Carl is…Carl is Carl,” she sighed with a shrug.

Thranduil watched with keen interest as she attacked the contents of the tub with renewed vigor.

“What are you eating?”

“Ice cream. The perfect thing for emotional eating.” Charlotte glanced up at the elf sitting next to her and suddenly became acutely aware of his body pressing against hers, his heat radiating through the layers of clothing between them. “Have you ever had ice cream before?”

Thranduil shook his head once, the movement slow and deliberate. “No. It is not something found in Middle Earth.”

This didn’t seem to surprise Charlotte.

“Would you like to try some?” she asked sweetly, which caused Thranduil to narrow his eyes in suspicion. _His little spider was up to something._ But he decided to play along and see where this would lead.

Thranduil inclined his head in affirmation and Charlotte’s grin broadened. This had clearly been the answer she had been hoping for.

Charlotte shifted and Thranduil suddenly found her straddling his lap. He had a brief moment of startled hesitation before his hands came up of their own accord to rest on her hips, his thumbs automatically stroking against the material of her pajamas. He waited with bated breath to see where she was going to take this. Part of him was erring on the side of caution and hoping that she would go no farther than merely straddling his lap. He doubted he would have much will power to halt things before they progressed to the point of no return if she decided to pursue this more. But another part, a darker part, was thrilling with anticipation, and he knew he would become a willing participant.

Sitting like this, Charlotte was now eye-level with Thranduil, and he noted the wicked gleam in her eyes that now twinkled like the brightest stars in the sky. The tub of ice cream was still clutched in her hands, and she scooped out a generous amount with the spoon.

“Say ‘Ahh’,” she commanded in a playful tone.

The corner of his mouth quirked up at the absurd notion that she was spoon feeding him like a child, but there was no denying there was something tantalizingly intimate in this little act of hers. Thranduil obliged, slowly opening his mouth, his eyes never straying from hers as she placed the spoon into his mouth. His lips closed over the cold, sweet dessert, and he found he rather enjoyed the taste of this newfound dessert. It was certainly a delicacy he would be indulging more of in the future.

Charlotte gently pulled the poon from his closed lips and put it back in the tub, placing it on the sofa cushion next to them. The air crackled with tension and electricity between them, and Charlotte gazed at Thranduil with an untempered fire blazing in those warm hazel depths. Thranduil felt his pulse quicken, stilling as he waited to see what turn of direction this would take.

Charlotte lifted her hands, and after a tentative pause, she ran her fingers through his hair, the movement slow and sensual. Then she slowly closed the distance and kissed him, her lips warm and pliant. There was no sense of urgency; rather a slow sensual dance as their lips molded together, their tongues seeking entrance as they took their time to savor each other. Thranduil’s arms wrapped around her, drawing her closer until she was completely flush against him, and still it wasn’t enough.

Charlotte was the first to pull away for breath.

“Delicious,” she breathed out with a shuddering breath.

“Yes, indeed,” he agreed, his voice having dropped to a husky growl.

Time seemed to come to a standstill as both realized that they were no longer talking about ice cream.

Then the carefully crafted barriers crumbled around them and Charlotte suddenly found herself flat on her back, Thranduil’s lean form pressing illicitly against hers as he kissed her with a fervent passion that promised something darker and tempting - a temptation that neither could ignore or deny.

Charlotte wrapped her legs around his waist as hands became entangled in hair, each desperate and wanting more. The kiss had now become demanding and forceful as a scorching heat built up between them, threatening to consume them in a fiery inferno.

Charlotte gasped for breath and Thranduil used this opportunity to trail kisses down her neck, nipping softly at the sensitive spot below her ear. Charlotte groaned as desire lanced through her, and all she could think about was completion and release. Now.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, Charlotte yanked forcefully.

“Off. Now,” she growled.

Thranduil stared at her for a beat, the ethereal blue of his eyes darkening into smoldering and predatory intent. Then he swiftly sat back on his heels with liquid grace and pulled the shirt over his head in a fluid motion, discarding it to the floor without a second thought.

Charlotte sat up, leaning on her elbows, and hungrily drank in the magnificent sight of perfection that was purely Thranduil. Surely even the angels would weep at such a beauty, and she felt utterly spellbound as her eyes were drawn to the well-defined plains of his body. His lithe and lean form could not distract from the coiled power that rippled beneath the surface, hinting at the formidable and fierce warrior he actually was.

Charlotte straightened up and tentatively traced her fingertips over the pearly white smoothness of his chest, her touch slowly inching down to the firm expanse of his abdomen, and she noted with satisfaction how his stomach muscles contracted at her touch. She finally reached the waistband of his jeans and she glanced up at Thranduil through her eyelashes, holding her breath to see what he would do, vaguely aware that time had come to a shuddering halt.

His lips crashed against hers as Thranduil pushed her back down on the sofa with force, their bodies molding and conforming together, the friction causing a primal response within them. Charlotte unable to deal with the anticipation any longer, raked her nails down the broad expanse of his back.

Thranduil pulled back, shock plainly written on his features at the feral action Charlotte had just displayed. Charlotte nervously gnawed at her bottom lip, wondering if she had gone too far. _Did elves even participate in a bit of rough foreplay?_ She was starting to get worried, but then a salacious smirk slowly pulled on the corners of Thranduil’s perfect lips, and his eyes darkened and foretold exactly what he planned to do to her next. Charlotte swallowed hard as heady arousal coursed through her body, thrilling at what was to come next.

With more self-control than before, Thranduil pressed his body against hers and captured her lips in a sensually firm kiss, and Charlotte suddenly gasped when she felt his hand slip under her pajama top, his touch slowly trailing a scorching path.

“I hate these pajamas. I think they need to come off,” he murmured against her mouth.

Charlotte couldn’t agree more, and she drew up her suddenly shaky hands to undo the buttons. Thranduil stilled them, placing them firmly on either side of her head.

“Let me.”

All breath, and coherent thought, fled her at the uncaged fervor smoldering in those hypnotic blue eyes. Thranduil captured her lips again, taking his time to taste her, and then he trailed blistering kisses along her throat and down to her collar bone. Each caress and kiss left her feeling utterly helpless as she succumbed to his will, her mind unable to think about anything but the agonizing ache as her body yearned for completion.

His fingers hovered just above the first button of her pajama top.

“You should tell me to stop,” he murmured.

Charlotte groaned. “No. If anything, I’m telling you _not_ to stop!”

Thranduil smirked. “As my Lady commands.”

With deliberate and teasing gradualness, Thranduil undid the first button, revealing a sliver of tantalizing flesh. But it was not enough. He slowly trailed down to the next button, his eyes never leaving hers, and Charlotte squirmed beneath him, impatient for release. _She didn’t think she could hold out much longer under his ministrations, and he had barely begun._

Thranduil undid the next one, revealing more of her pale, flushed skin. Two more buttons and she would be bare before him. Charlotte squirmed again, painfully aware of his body pressed against her. Thranduil slowly trailed a fingertip from her collarbone down to the exposed skin peeking through the material of the pajama top, relishing as her breath caught in her throat, and then his fingers hovered just over the third button.

As they gazed at each other, Charlotte could plainly see the shift in his features. His resolve was very close to breaking. They were now standing on the edge, both ready and willing to take the plunge and become consumed in their passionate desire.

Suddenly the shrill ringing of her cellphone that was resting on the coffee table cut through the electrically charged atmosphere. Thranduil paused, and they both let out the breaths they had been holding when the ringing finally stopped.

“Now, where were we?” he asked seductively.

The ringing started up again, and both Thranduil and Charlotte let out groans of exasperation. It was obvious that the calls would not stop until Charlotte answered her blasted phone. Thranduil sat back on his heels and Charlotte ran her hands agitatedly through her hair, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

The ringing stopped, but almost immediately started back up again. Charlotte pushed herself up and reached for the phone, scowling darkly at the caller ID.

She pressed the button and put the phone to her ear.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have terrible timing, Carl?!” she snapped.

“All the time. Still doesn’t stop me,” came his all too cheerful, and unperturbed, response.

“There had better be a good reason for this call,” she muttered darkly.

“I had a little chat with Eric earlier on.”

Charlotte sat up straighter, instantly alert. “You did _what_?”

“I had a little chat with him and warned him to stay away from you. I think he is now most agreeable.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “How did you manage that?”

“A little something I like to call blackmail.”

Charlotte groaned. “Carl, what did you do?”

“I warned him that if he continued with his harassment, his little wifey would soon find out about his unhealthy obsession with his ex. He wasn’t too happy about that, but I made him see reason that he would not only stand to lose his girl, but his child as well. And I might have added that I would have a word with his supervisor.”

A chill went through Charlotte. “Carl, that was really stupid. You have now painted a bullseye right on yourself. Eric will find a way to get you out of the picture.”

“Many have tried, and all have failed,” Carl remarked dismissively. “Besides, that was the plan. Get his focus off you.”

“Carl…”

“I can handle myself, Charlotte. I have ways and means. I’m not scared of a little runt like Eric.”

Charlotte did not feel reassured by his words and she cut a worried glance to Thranduil, who was listening intently to the conversation. With mild disappointment, she watched as he retrieved his shirt from the floor, the moment clearly over.

“Thomas will be tailing him from now on, and I trust him with my back. But you let me know if anything pops up.”

“Okay, but you also stay careful.”

“I always am. Now, I’ll let you get on with…whatever you were doing,” he said, chuckling heartedly on the other end, and ended the call without so much as a goodbye.

Charlotte placed her phone down on the coffee table and turned her attention to Thranduil.

“Did you hear all of that?”

“It’s hard not to, when his vocalization can be compared to that of shouting,” he replied drily.

“What do you think?” Charlotte bit her thumb nail, the troubled feeling settling heavy in her gut.

Thranduil remained silent for a moment. “I have an uneasy feeling about all of this.”

Charlotte nodded and let out a heavy sigh. “So do I.”

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte tossed and turned in bed that night, anxiety coursing through her like the crashing waves during a turbulent storm. She knew Carl could take care of himself, but this knowledge still did little to ease her mind.

Finally, she flung back the covers in defeat and padded to Thranduil’s room. _If anyone could calm her down, it would be him. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she wanted to be in his arms again, to feel his warmth enveloping her_. She kept telling herself that that little white lie as she entered his room and made her way to his bed.

She crawled in beside him without hesitation and let out a sigh of relief when his strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close to him. She nuzzled against the warmth of his bare chest, becoming lost in the heady scent that was purely Thranduil. Charlotte snuggled closer and slid her arm over his waist.

She stilled when her fingers brushed the edge of his boxers and she was suddenly very aware that he wasn’t wearing any pajama bottoms.

“Where are your pajamas?” she asked.

“In the laundry basket. You should seriously think about getting me some more,” he muttered.

“Maybe,” she replied cheekily.

She could practically feel him smiling. “Or next time you decide to crawl in my bed, you might find that there will be no materialistic barriers.”

“You know that’s no longer a deterrent? If anything, it’s more of an enticement.” she stated innocently.

“I will keep that in mind,” he replied amusedly, but Charlotte was disappointed when he made no other move to resume what had been interrupted earlier on. Thranduil kissed the top of her head and said, “Now go to sleep, Charlotte.”

As they lay entwined in each other’s arms, Thranduil waited until her breathing evened out, signaling that she had fallen into a deep slumber, and he let out a heavy sigh.

Moments of passion were easy to succumb to, but sealing a moment of love that bordered far beyond the realms of desire was something more profound and special. And he wanted their union marked as such.

He could tell that his little spider felt hurt that he had not continued with their passionate exploit, but he vowed that when the time was right, he would make it up to her and banish all memories of disappointment. Charlotte was, after all, special to him and deserved to be treated as such. When she became completely his, he would always endeavor to show her just how dear she really was to him.

But as he lay there in the dark, his senses became overwhelmed with the touch and taste of her, and Thranduil knew he would not be able to hold out much longer. When it came to Charlotte, he wanted everything she had to offer, and so much more.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge and heartfelt thank you to all who left such wonderful reviews on the last chapter - they really mean the world to me :)

It was Wednesday evening and Charlotte currently found herself once more in the basement enduring yet another gruelling training session with Thranduil. Tonight he was being considerably stricter and more onerous than usual, and as Charlotte hunched over, clutching her knees for support as she gasped desperately for air, she was fairly certain that this was a tactical maneuver on his part to sap every ounce of energy from her so that, when she crawled into bed with him tonight, she wouldn’t try anything…naughty.

The last few nights had involved heavy kissing and illicit caresses that left her utterly breathless and yearning for more as their bodies molded in heated entanglement. But, as always, Thranduil had halted before it could progress further – much to her consternation. The sexual tension, as well as the lack of some form of release, was really getting to her, and if she had to wager a guess, it was affecting the great Elvenking as well. He was coiled as tightly as a wound-up spring, and as he paced the room issuing pointers and critique, Charlotte could practically feel the agitation roiling off of him like a buffering wave.

“You’re getting sloppy in your attacks,” Thranduil remarked as he strode from one end of the room to the other; his hands clasped behind his ramrod back, his jaw set in a hard line and his eyes glinting like shards of glass as he scrutinised her from afar.

“That’s because we’ve been at this for nearly two hours. I’m exhausted,” Charlotte snapped, swiping away a damp strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail from her flushed face.

“That’s no excuse, Charlotte. Push past the weakness you perceive in yourself and strive for improvement.”

Charlotte muttered a few colorful words in response and knew he had heard by the way Thranduil suddenly stilled and glanced over his shoulder with a look of mild disapproval.

Charlotte straightened with great effort, her muscles screaming for reprieve, and placed her hands on her hips.

“Did you personally train Legolas?” she enquired.

Thranduil turned to face her full on with liquid grace. “Legolas received tutelage from some of my finest warriors and when he was ready, I continued with his training.”

“The poor sod,” Charlotte muttered.

Thranduil tilted his head to the side, his eyes focussing dangerously on her. His utter stillness, paired with the intensity of his gaze, suddenly made her feel very nervous at her slip of words.

“What was that, little one?” he asked, his rich, deep voice coming out as a danger-laced growl.

“Nothing,” she quipped, her voice going high pitched.

His electric blue eyes narrowed into icy slits and then he abruptly turned his back on her. Charlotte let out the breath she had been holding, cringing when it come out as a _whoosh_.

“Now I want you to try and attack me. And do try to at least get in a hit this time,” he remarked in a derogatory tone.

Charlotte groaned and dropped her head in defeat. This is what she had been trying to do for the last two bloody hours, and each and every time Thranduil had blocked her punches and kicks as though he were merely swatting away a bothersome fly. She hadn’t landed a single blow, and this frustration, paired with the sexual tension brewing between them, was coming to a head in epic proportions.

There was no way she would land a strike, not after nearly all her energy was sapped, so she thought: _what the hell!_

Charlotte charged full tilt and flung herself at the Elvenking. Thranduil turned around at the last second and caught her swiftly in his arms. Charlotte blinked in startled surprise, finding her legs wrapped around his slim waist and her hands clutching his shoulders. She slowly raised her gaze and her breath hitched when her eyes locked with his. In those swirling blue depths was an undercurrent of predatory intent and she suddenly realised there was no escape. Not that she wanted to escape, but the look in his eyes let her know that she was very much his prey.

Thranduil was silent for a few moments as he stared down at the female ensnared in his clutches, and he finally broke the weighted silence. “I am curious as to what you intend to do next?”

Charlotte gave him a sheepish grin. “Actually, I have no idea. I didn’t expect to get this far.”

His lips brushed against her ear, sending shivers of pulsing desire coursing through her body, and Charlotte was painfully aware of his slender fingers digging into the flesh of her inner thighs as he held her, the heat level ratcheting between them.

“You only got this far because I let you,” he murmured.

Charlotte drew in a shaky breath. “Question is, how much further are you willing to let me go?”

Thranduil pulled back deliberately to stare down at her, his luminous face now guarded and unreadable. “Depends…how far do you want to go.”

Emboldened, Charlotte answered. “All. The. Way.”

Thranduil’s alabaster features remained expressionless and closed off. Charlotte would have automatically assumed that he was unaffected, except she noted him swallowing hard at her declaration. She waited for his response with bated breath, the seconds ticking by in a painfully slow pace. _Would he kiss her and finally take the next step, ending the unbearable tension building up between them like an incessant ache that begged to be soothed? Or would his impenetrable will power come to the forefront and deny her once again?_

Charlotte wasn’t surprised when Thranduil placed her back on the floor and he took a step back, his hands clasped behind his back once again as he regained his composure.

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity before finally speaking up. “I understand that you and I come from different worlds; worlds where certain viewpoints differ, Charlotte.”

Charlotte frowned. Thranduil had such an eloquent way with words, but sometimes she wished he would just be direct and say what he really meant.

“And what viewpoint are we talking about?”

“The intimate kind.”

Her brows furrowed even more. _What, exactly, was his point?_

Seeing the confusion flooding her features, Thranduil said, “Go and take a shower, Charlotte, and afterwards we need to sit down and talk.”

Charlotte suddenly felt nervous. The phrase ‘we need to talk’ always sent her mind careening into an abyss of fear, for bad news always crested on the horizon with those words.

But she gave a nod and left the basement, her heart pounding in her chest as she went upstairs to take a shower.

ooOoo

Charlotte entered the living room dressed in a thin strapped black top and dark grey yoga pants. She had made a half-assed effort to dry her hair with the hairdryer, and now the frizzy and spectacularly bushy results were swept back in a ponytail. She often cursed whatever gene she had inherited that decided to give her thick, unruly hair and tonight was no exception.

She paused in the archway, marvelling at the lone silhouette of Thranduil as he stood statue-like at the window, a glass of wine clutched in his hand and a contemplative look painting his features. He was still dressed in black jeans and a cotton navy blue shirt that moulded deliciously against his form.

“You wanted to talk?” Charlotte asked, picking anxiously at her thumb nail.

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder and stared at her for a beat, his face not yielding any answers. Then he strode towards the coffee table with long and purposeful strides, pausing to pluck the other glass of wine from its surface and held it out expectantly for Charlotte to take.

Charlotte stepped into the room and took it from his proffered hand, raising a questioning brow at the fair elf.

“That bad, huh?”

“Contrary to what you might believe, no, it is not bad. I noticed your apprehension earlier on and I thought some wine might settle your nerves.”

Charlotte took a sip, the taste sharp and fruity on her tongue. She brushed past Thranduil and sat down heavily on the sofa, tucking one foot under her as she took another sip of wine. She watched over the rim of her glass as Thranduil came to sit beside her, practically oozing confidence and composure as he took a measured sip from his own glass and angled his lithe body so that his attention was fully on her.

Charlotte waited for him the break the silence that had descended upon the room. Her heart was hammering so loudly that she was certain his elfy ears could detect it. But if he heard it, he made no comment.

Thranduil reached forward and tenderly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, warm affection alighting his features as he did so, and Charlotte felt herself relaxing under his familiar caress. There was nothing but honesty and love radiating from the freakishly handsome elf, and soon her previous concerns melted away as she gazed back at him.

Thranduil lowered his hand, taking her colder hand in his own and lifted their entwined fingers to place a kiss on the back of her hand.

“I know I have not been here very long, Charlotte, and that our relationship has developed very quickly. Too quickly. Yet, I find that I would not want it any other way with you. In fact, I feel that, at times, it is progressing slower than what I would like.” Thranduil paused. “But…”

_Uh-oh. The infamous ‘but’._ Charlotte watched apprehensively as Thranduil thought over his next words carefully, and she used this opportunity to take another sip of wine.

“From what I have observed on the television, I have come to the conclusion that the humans of this world do not view the act of lovemaking the same way that elves do.”

Charlotte sat absolutely still, so many thoughts running through her head: the main one being that this was why Thranduil was being so hesitant to take the next step with her. _Did he honestly think that she would view sex with him as just…sex?_

Thranduil studied the unnatural stillness that had overcome Charlotte; there was not even a nervous fidget that she usually resorted to. Finally, she blinked and met his gaze.

“And how do elves view it?”

Thranduil took a long sip from his glass before answering. “We view it as a moment shared between a couple who love each other dearly and who are dedicated to one another. It is a moment that holds great meaning and veneration. It is the ultimate declaration of love.”

“And you think that us humans are not capable of expressing such emotions? Is that what you think? That I’m incapable of loving you and making love to you with the same degree as what another elf would?”

“What I am saying,” he said slowly and pointedly, “is that I know you are eager for our relationship to progress to the next stage. As am I. But our union should be a moment born of love, not a meaningless act.”

Charlotte was silent for a few moments. “Do you really think it would be meaningless to me, Thranduil?”

Thranduil blinked in surprise; the truth of her words washing away any doubt he may have harbored.

Charlotte stood and placed her glass on the table and ran her hand over her face. “Look, I get it. You want to wait until the moment is right.”

Thranduil watched her with a guarded mask. Humans were notorious with their quick tempers, as well being unreasonable. It was difficult to gauge how Charlotte was going to react right now, even though he had her pegged as being good natured. Though, in his many years, he had found that it was always the small ones who were the most explosive.

“I’m scared as well, Thranduil, especially of how fast everything is going. But somehow it feels right.”

Thranduil quirked a smile: this comment he wholeheartedly agreed with.

Charlotte came to stand in front of him and plucked his glass from his hand, placing it next to hers on the coffee table. Then she returned, and before he could react or protest, she straddled his lap and gently cupped his face between her hands, the look on her face fierce and unyielding.

“It _would_ be a moment born of love, as you so perfectly put it, because I do love you, Thranduil.”

Something warm and almost crippling in intensity squeezed his heart at her words. Charlotte slowly lowered her head and brushed her lips against his in a featherlight kiss that spoke of her unwavering declaration of love, before pulling back.

“But the moment and setting doesn’t have to be just right, Thranduil. Our time together will be perfect in its imperfection…because I will be making love with the one I love.”

Thranduil felt as though he couldn’t breath. Her words spoke of a profound truth and wisdom that he could not ignore.

“I’m talking about you, in case you’re wondering,” she stated with a cheeky grin.

Thranduil smiled softly at her, his hands coming to rest on her hips, trying hard to ignore how thin the material of her clothing was as their bodies pressed together in intimate places. “How did you get so wise, _meleth n_ _î_ _n_?”

“You’re so going to have to teach me Sindarin.”

“And give you the tools to figure out my secrets? I think not!”

“I already know your secret of getting up at night to raid the freezer of the ice cream. You, Mister, have a sweet tooth,” she stated, flashing him a tongue-touched grin and poking him in the chest.

Thranduil grinned unapologetically and watched with disappointment as she scooted off his lap.

“Talking of ice cream, do you fancy a sundae?”

“Does it consist of ice cream?”

“You bet it does,” she enthused, her eyes sparkling merrily.

Thranduil stood up, taking her hand in his own. “Then I am certainly not opposed to trying it.”

Fifteen minutes later the two were sharing a sundae, which Charlotte had abundantly loaded with chocolate sauce. Thranduil had put up no objection to this as his sweet tooth really did favor the taste of chocolate. Another thing he would miss when he returned to Middle Earth.

As they laughed and joked, and even spoon fed each other the ice cream treat, he felt he could stay here for all eternity with Charlotte. His heart had firmly settled here to stay with her, but something was coming. Something dark and unstoppable that would put a black stain on their lives. Thranduil could not deny this premonition, but for now he endeavoured to get lost in this perfectly imperfect moment with the woman he loved. For this is where he belonged: by her side.

ooOoo

It was now Friday afternoon and Charlotte was currently at the department store picking out an array of pajamas (no elf ones this time) for the Elvenking. After this expedition she needed to stock up on groceries. There was currently a storm warning in place and a major snowstorm was to hit this evening, and she wanted to be prepared in the case that they lost power for the next few days. She was thankful that her boss had let her off work early to make preparations, as she really didn’t want to be driving back home in the dark when it hit.

After picking up the necessities, Charlotte stopped at a restaurant and ordered some food. She was determined to have a romantic date with Thranduil tonight and seeing that she could not take them to a fancy restaurant, she would have to make it a special evening at home.

When she arrived home, she was unsurprised to find Thranduil absent. He had probably gone out for a walk, as he was not expecting her home early today. Charlotte set about unpacking the groceries and then placed his new pajamas on his bed.

As she entered the kitchen, the door flew open, sending in a flurry of thick white flakes and Thranduil stepped in with haste. He absently brushed the snow from his cloak and paused when he saw Charlotte in the archway, watching him.

“You’re home early.”

“I bagged a half-day due to the storm coming in.”

“Yes, it is getting a bit perilous out there,” he replied, taking his cloak off and hanging it on the coat rack.

“Did you have a good walk?”

“As good as any. I didn’t come across any elks to place in my servitude,” he said wryly.

“Hmm, you might have better luck finding a moose out here.”

His features lit up at the thought. “That thought holds merit.”

Charlotte shook her head in good humor and strolled further into the kitchen. She picked up the crisp white box waiting on the counter and handed it to Thranduil, who took it with a brow raised in question.

“I would like for you to dress up in this tonight for dinner, please,” she said.

“What are you planning, little one?”

“Just a romantic dinner. I, uh, thought you’d look really great in this.”

Thranduil stepped forward, his scent washing over her and making her unable to think of anything else but him. She was suddenly achingly aware of how close he actually was.

“Then I think it’s only fair that you dress up as well,” he stated in a seductively husky tone.

“Oh, I plan to.”

A smile quirked on his lips. “I look forward to it,” he said, gently pressing his fingertips under her chin. Charlotte felt the familiar flutter in her stomach as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against hers in a chaste, yet intimate kiss. Then he straightened, his eyes twinkling wickedly and without another word, he left the room with a flourish.

Charlotte drew in a steadying breath, her body aching for his touch. She had never thought that a chaste kiss could make her feel as weak-kneed as what a passion-fuelled kiss could, but somehow Thranduil managed to elicit the same reaction from her either way.

Charlotte blinked out of her stupor, realising she had to get ready. She hastily set the table and lit the candles, and even remembered to place a bottle of wine in the ice bucket. Knowing that she didn’t have much time, Charlotte grabbed her own box from the counter and bolted upstairs to get ready.

ooOoo

Thranduil came downstairs, noting the emptiness that pervaded the living room and kitchen. _Charlotte must still be getting ready_ , he thought to himself. He noted the romantic setting laid out on the kitchen table, along with the lit candles and the dulcet tones of the soft music playing in the living room. _Ah, she even remembered the wine!_ He smiled fondly to himself. His little spider really was trying, though he did send a silent thanks to the Valar that she hadn’t decided to cook.

Thranduil stalked to the living room, noting the thick flakes of snow now coming down as the storm started to increase, blanketing the land in a swirling frosty white quilt. Charlotte, in preparation for the storm, had asked him this morning to collect some firewood from the shed and place it by the fireplace. At least they had the option of fire for warmth if the power went out. _Electricity_ …he still could not wrap his head around this technological marvel, though, admittedly, he had grown quite used to the conveniences that this world had to offer.

The soft click of heels alerted him to Charlotte’s presence and Thranduil turned around to greet her.

Words instantly fled him at the ethereal sight before him, and Thranduil felt his jaw literally go slack.

Charlotte was wearing a crimson red lace dress that stood out beautifully against her pale skin and bought out the dark brown of her hair. The sleeves reached just above her elbows and were off shoulder, exposing her delicate collar bone in a sensual manner. The flowing skirt of the dress brushed against the floor, and Thranduil thought he glimpsed a pair of red stilettoes peeking from under the delicate material. His eyes slowly travelled up, noting that she had tamed her hair into soft waves that caressed those invitingly bare shoulders, and atop her head she wore his circlet!

Thranduil blinked in surprise at the sight, though he could not deny that he rather loved the way it looked resting on her head. _The Queen to his King_. Thranduil sucked in a sharp breath, for this revelation was unexpected. Yet, now that the idea had seeded in his mind, he realised that this was exactly what Charlotte was to him. _His Queen. His heart._

Charlotte, for her part, stopped dead at the sight of the elf before her. Thranduil was dressed in the midnight black suit she had bought him, the color contrasting magnificently with the pure silky white of his hair. The crisp white dress shirt peeked from under the jacket, buttoned all the way to the collar, though she noted that he was currently missing the tie. Her eyes roamed lower, taking in the sight of the pressed black slacks that fitted him to perfection, paired with shiny black shoes. Charlotte, when she had purchased the suit, had had an inkling that it would look absolutely divine on him, but the reality was far exceeding her expectations. He was the very picture of elegance and poise, grace and regality. Exquisite in every possible way.

Something caught her eye and she noted the silky black tie dangling from his fingers.

“Couldn’t figure out how to do the tie?” she teased.

Thranduil snapped out of his daze and glanced down at the offending item in his grasp before turning his attention back to her. “I can’t say I have ever had the displeasure of coming across something as complex as this,” he stated, unable to mask his perplexity and distaste.

Charlotte strode forward in a vision in red, an amused smile playing on her (thankfully lipstick-free) lips. “Here, let me.” She pulled the tie free from his hand and reached up, turning up the collar of his shirt. Charlotte worked with nimble fingers to secure the tie around his neck and Thranduil watched her all the while with an unblinking gaze, his body resolutely still as he tried to concentrate on anything but her body pressed against his as she worked. The delicate scent of jasmine filled his senses and he knew he needed a distraction before his hands wandered of their own accord and he decided to forego dinner altogether.

“Have you spoken to Carl lately?”

Charlotte, her brows furrowed slightly as she concentrated on the task at hand, replied, “Yeah, I called him again today. He told me he was fine and to stop bugging him, and that if he wanted a mother figure in his life, he would dig up his mother’s remains.”

“Sounds like something Carl would say.”

Charlotte chuckled. With the tie now finally secured in a neat knot at his neck, Charlotte dropped her hands to her side and took a step back, her appreciative gaze raking over him.

“You look mighty fine, if I do say so myself.”

“And you look absolutely breathtaking, Charlotte Amelia Wright.”

Charlotte quirked a brow. “Should I even ask how you know my full name?”

“It was scribbled on one of your notebooks. I believe the subject was Science.” A sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You, my dear, were not a particularly gifted student with regards to that subject.”

Charlotte pulled a face. “Yeah, I’m not going to deny it. I hated Science.”

Suddenly the lights flickered, and Charlotte lifted her gaze to the ceiling, waiting for the dreaded moment when the power would fail completely. A few seconds later they were both bathed in inky darkness.

Charlotte sighed in the gloom and said, “Well, I guess the date is over before it even began.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Thranduil remarked, and she heard him rummaging around in the pitch-black room. Soon a blazing fire was cracking in the hearth, the orange and red flames licking greedily at the logs stacked within, casting a dim, but warm light within the room.

Thranduil straightened and turned his attention to Charlotte, pausing at the sight. The glow emitting from the fire cast her silhouette in a fiery radiance, making her seem like an ethereal creature born from the flames, and he felt utterly spellbound at the beauty that was simply Charlotte. _The fire that would consume him…_

“Thranduil?” she breathed out.

His name on her lips, especially uttered in reverence, is what sent him off the precarious edge he was standing on, sealing his fate.

He closed the distance and cupped her head between his palms. He saw his own hunger reflected in the burning depths of her hazel eyes, and he knew this was a hunger he could deny no more.

This was his last shred of coherent thought as his lips crashed against her own, eager to devour and consume her with a blazing intensity he hadn’t known he was capable of.

Tonight, they would surrender themselves to the fiery inferno of their passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A special thanks needs to go out to Raider-K for inspiring the scene with Thranduil in a suit, and for pointing me in the direction of an artist on Deviant Art by the pen name of mformadness, who has some really phenomenal pictures up of modern Thranduil. Be sure to check them out.
> 
> Please review, fave and follow :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left such wonderful reviews on the last chapter :)
> 
> This chapter is a short one, but it was the hardest chapter I have ever written. I knew I wanted their scene to be tasteful and I did not want it to veer into the realms of smuttiness, so I hope I succeeded on that front. I'm as nervous as a sinner in church posting this chapter, as sex scene are not easy for me to write. So please do be gentle with critique :)
> 
> So, without further ado, here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it :)

His fingertips trailed down her back, his touch blazing a heated trail through the thin material of her dress. A fine tremble coursed through Charlotte’s body under his featherlight strokes as Thranduil deepened the kiss, the intensity of the moment causing their eyes to flutter closed as they surrendered themselves.

In the background the flames from the fire flared, competing with the ignited passion that was quickly kindling between them as tonight marked the moment of them coming together as one. Tonight, there would be no turning back. _There had been no turning back since he had first laid eyes on her,_ a thought whispered like a lover’s caress in the back of his mind.

His hand splayed against the small of her back, drawing her flush against his body as his other hand entangled in her hair, his kisses becoming more demanding as though he sought to devour her. The inferno building up between them was almost too much to bear and yet it was not enough. It never seemed to be enough.

Charlotte rose on her toes, snaking her arms around his neck as though she were the flower seeking the warm rays of his light. Their tongues danced sensually against each other; her body pressed against his with what could almost be described as restrained anticipation. She wove her fingers into the silky strands of his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp as the urgency became palpably unbearable.

Thranduil groaned in pleasure and pulled back to gaze down at her, the flames from the fire reflecting in the cool blue surface of those electrifying eyes. In the gloom his sharp gaze could make out the pink flushing her cheeks, her swollen lips slightly parted as she gasped for air. She truly was a sight to behold in this raw moment of unadulterated fervor, and he couldn’t help but be enchanted by the woman who held his heart captive.

He trailed his thumb tenderly over her bottom lip, captivated. No matter how many times he kissed her, he always yearned to taste more of her. He dragged his gaze up to Charlotte’s eyes, noting they were now darkened with desire - a desire he was certain was reflected in his own. He lowered his head and captured her lips in a slow, heated kiss, pouring his love into this moment. He was almost floored by the intensity of love he felt being echoed right back from Charlotte.

He slowly trailed his hand up her back, eliciting a shiver of anticipation from Charlotte. His fingers found the zip, and with aching unhurriedness, Thranduil pulled it down little by little, his fingertips skimming over her silken skin and causing goosebumps in his wake.

Charlotte drew in a shuddering breath, the ache inside her welling to unbearable proportions, and she desperately hoped that Thranduil would not prolong this exquisite torture - though a part of her knew that he was only just beginning.

Thranduil laid a featherlight kiss on the sensitive spot on her neck just under her ear, causing her to breath to catch in her throat and she writhed against him, eager for some form of release.

“So impatient,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against her skin like butterfly wings.

Charlotte, if she could have thought clearly, would have made a cutting remark. Instead she angled her head to give him better access to her neck and was rewarded with a sharp nip on the tender flesh. She moaned out loud, unable to halt the helpless whimper as he soothed the hurt with a caress of his tongue.

His hands drew up to her bare shoulders, reveling in the softness of her skin, and then he slowly pushed down the sleeves of her dress as he continued nipping and kissing along her neck. The lacy material slithered down her body and fell at her feet in a crimson pool, now completely forgotten.

There was a palpable cracking of electricity in the air as Thranduil pulled back slightly, letting his predatory gaze rake over the perfection of her half-naked body, which was now clad only in lacy black lingerie and red stilettoes. The sight alone was almost enough to break him.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she took in deep breaths, standing before him in the most vulnerable way a woman could stand before a man. Charlotte suddenly felt self-conscious and nervous, but seeing the desire, hunger and adoration reflected in Thranduil’s gaze, and knowing that she was the one causing it, gave her a renewed sense of confidence.

She stepped out from of the crumpled dress now at her feet and closed the distance. She placed her trembling hands flat on his chest, noting how fast his heart was beating under her palm. _It would seem that the great Elvenking was just as nervous as she was, though he was better at hiding it than her._ Charlotte slowly lifted her gaze to his and licked her lips, the movement drawing the King’s attention to them.

“We can stop if you want,” he murmured.

Charlotte stared up at him, seeing the simple truth in his eyes: he would, indeed, stop if she asked him to. It was in this moment that she truly glimpsed the honor elves possessed, their actions reflecting their sanctity for all things good. But right now, she did not want any of those noble traits: she just wanted him.

She silently shook her head, the soft waves tumbling against her bare shoulders.

“No, Thranduil. I want to be yours. Not only for tonight, but for as long as you’ll have me.”

Warmth illuminated his features and he tenderly caressed her cheek.

“I would have you forever by my side, _meleth n_ _î_ _n.”_

Their lips brushed together lightly, reflecting the tenderness of the moment, as well as the unspoken love that they had professed for each other. The air rang with the truth of their vows and soon the passion ignited, the kiss deepening and intensifying as their bodies molded perfectly together. Thranduil’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he pulled her firmly against him. There would be bruises in the morning, but Charlotte didn’t care.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” he murmured against her lips.

His words called to a primal part of her and she placed her palms against his chest, gently guiding him backwards until his legs hit the back of the couch. Thranduil raised a brow, quite taken aback by her boldness, yet he could not deny that he quite enjoyed witnessing this side of her.

Charlotte, her hands shaking slightly, started to undo the buttons on his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. She met his penetrating gaze with renewed feistiness and then undid his tie, pulling it free from his collar with a slow, deliberate tug. Thranduil watched as she dangled the silky tie from her fingers and let it slip from her grasp to flutter to the floor.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, enjoying this display of dominance from his little spider. She was quite the spitfire when she wanted to be.

Charlotte started to undo the buttons on his shirt one at a time and it took ever ounce of restraint not rip it apart, something she was seriously contemplating doing as she fumbled with the last two buttons. With a growl of frustration, she pushed Thranduil back. He had been expecting this, though, and let himself fall back into the spongy cushioning of the sofa without surprise or protest.

Before he could blink, Charlotte was straddling his lap, her lips grazing against his as she rocked her body in a sensual manner against him. Thranduil was painfully aware of how intimately she was pressed against him, now that barely any clothing separated them, and he was finding it rather difficult to concentrate.

He wrapped his arms around her, his hands eagerly exploring the sensuous flesh exposed to him, and he hesitated for a moment before boldly stroking her bum. Charlotte groaned into his mouth as his hands kneaded and rubbed at the soft flesh, and she pulled back enough to finish her task of unbuttoning his shirt. She tugged forcefully at his shirt and Thranduil obligingly leaned forward to let her discard the item of clothing.

With the shirt now gone, Thranduil pressed his hand against her back and entangled his other hand in her hair, drawing her in for another searing kiss that was almost bruising in intensity. Charlotte panted for breath as Thranduil continued to kiss down her neck and collar bone, and she unconsciously arched her back. Thranduil murmured something in Sindarin, but Charlotte was too far gone to care what he was saying. Her body was trembling for release, a release that only he could give her.

Charlotte decided to do what she had been desiring to do for quite a while. She ran her tongue along the pointed tip of his ear and was rewarded with sharp inhale, followed by a deep moan from the Elvenking. _It would seem that elf ears were very sensitive_ , she thought smugly to herself. Her smugness was immediately washed away when his mouth closed over her nipple through the lacy material of her bra, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

Charlotte didn’t know how much more of this she could take. Thranduil was taking her to new heights, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. She had never known desire and love entwined so tightly together to cause an explosion of this magnitude within her. She felt as though she was going to shatter into a million pieces under his ministrations.

Suddenly she felt herself being flipped on her back on the sofa, Thranduil hovering over her with dark and smoldering intent written on his features.

The atmosphere shifted and became thicker with the promise of what was to come.

Thranduil’s heart constricted at the sight of Charlotte laid before him, completely at his mercy. But, he realised, he was now utterly at her mercy as well. Tonight, they would come together as one; a union that would seal their fates and continue with them for the rest of their lives together.

Thranduil lowered himself onto her, relishing the feel of her legs wrapping around his waist as he kissed her with a deep-rooted passion. He was vaguely aware of her nails digging into his back, and the pain coupled with the fervent urgency almost sent him over the edge. Wrapping his arms around her, Thranduil lifted her up as he stood.

“As much as I would enjoy making love to you in front of the fire, I think I would prefer the finer comforts of a bed to make you completely mine,” he murmured against her lips.

Charlotte did not have time to protest, for he swiftly made his way to his bedroom, carrying her with effortless ease. The room was completely bathed in inky darkness, and Charlotte clung to him, feeling vulnerable in her blindness.

Thranduil laid her on the bed with care, gently pushing her back until she was lying flat on her back. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest as she wondered what he was going to do. Being unable to see what he planned next heightened her anxiousness and she restrained from squirming in anticipation.

The bed dipped as Thranduil crawled next to her and she reached out blindly for him. He took her hand in his own and kissed the back of her hand tenderly before firmly placing her hands on either side of her head.

“Tonight, I intend to worship you, _meleth n_ _î_ _n_ ,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. The dark promise of his words thrilled through her like the currents of the ocean, strong and urgent.

Charlotte groaned as Thranduil kissed and nipped along her heated skin, taking his time to taste and feel every inch of her body as he memorised each and every curve. He listened carefully to the signals she was giving off and soon learned which spots made her moan and which spots made her cry out in unrestrained passion. Her whole body was alive and thrumming with ardor and soon he would become consumed in her fire.

His fingers hooked under the material of her panties and he pulled them off with agonising slowness, drawing out this moment of anticipation. The panties, along with the bra were discarded to the bedroom floor, lost in the darkness of the night. Thranduil kissed the flesh on her inner thigh and worked lower to her calves until he reached her feet.

“I would like for you to keep the heels on,” he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Yes, my King,” Charlotte breathed out hoarsely. She would have agreed to anything if only he would end this sensual torture he was putting her through. Thranduil smirked to himself, quite pleased at how he had reduced her to this passion-fuelled state.

The weight of the bed shifted as Thranduil climbed off, and Charlotte swallowed hard as she heard the unmistakable sound of his pants dropping to the floor.

Thranduil crawled up her body like a lithe panther, heated skin rubbing illicitly against heated skin as he slowly trailed kisses up her body before capturing her lips in a fiery kiss.

Thranduil pulled back enough to gaze down adoringly at the woman who was giving herself up to him, just as he was giving himself up to her. He caressed her cheek tenderly, his heart constricting with the unbridled love he felt for her.

“ _Gi melin,_ Charlotte.”

“I love you, too, Thranduil,” she whispered without hesitation, her hand coming up to rest against his own.

The dark of the night bore witness to their passionate unity; their love sealed in the most vulnerable and intimate act that two lovers could possibly share. As they whispered their love and cried out each other’s name as the fiery storm engulfed them, their fates became irrevocably entwined with each other. There would be no turning back from this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, fave and follow :)


	25. Chapter 25

A sense of contentedness settled deep into his very being, seeping into his dreams like a misty light as he slept soundly.

Thranduil’s eyes fluttered open as his senses came to life, a brief sense of disorientation seizing him like an iron fist before he relaxed when he realised where he was. With the last remnants of sleep dissipating came the memories of what had transpired last night between him and Charlotte, and a rare smile graced his features. _When was the last time he had experienced such serenity? Too long._

He attention turned to the sight of a blissfully sleeping Charlotte curled against his side, her head nestled against his chest and her arm flung across his waist. Her breaths came out in even warm huffs, fluttering against his skin. She looked so at peace like this and that warm feeling enveloped his heart again, as it always seemed to do when his thoughts turned to her. Thranduil raised a hand and gently brushed a strand of unruly hair from her face, his touch eliciting as breathy sigh from her lips.

As he stared at her, his thoughts drifted to last night, which had been beyond anything he had ever experienced before, not even with Calemir. They had crested the waves of emotions that been born between them as they made love, which mingled with the voracious passion that had almost been enough for him to lose control.

Thranduil closed his eyes as the memory flooding his senses with such force that the air stole from his lungs.

_Their hands entwined together as they moved in a sensual dance, their lovemaking bearing them to knew heights of ecstasy under the cover of darkness. The symphony of their finely attuned bodies was reaching its crescendo, and Charlotte cried out his name as she shattered beneath him._

Thranduil slowly opened his eyes. He had almost bonded with Charlotte. The urge had been overwhelming, like a siren’s call that urged him to complete the most sacred of unions.

There was no doubt in his mind that Charlotte was the one; the one whom he wanted to bond with and share his life with. His fëa mate. But Charlotte knew little to nothing of elvish customs and it would be cruel to thrust this onto her without any warning, not until she fully understood the implications of committing to such a union.

He knew that he would have to broach the subject with care, for the bond went well beyond the mere ceremony of marriage - it was a binding of fëas. Essentially, this was akin to a term he had learned whilst perusing the many books in the study: soulmates. Admittedly, the concept had been foreign to him, as with everything else in this world, but the more he read, the more enchanted he became with the term. It was, indeed, fitting.

Charlotte stirred, breaking Thranduil from his inner musings, and he revelled in the delicious feel of her warm, naked body snuggling closer to him. _Would he ever get his full of her?_ he thought to himself as he shifted and drew her plaint body against his.

His hand glided down her back, eliciting a shiver through her petite body.

“Five more minutes,” she murmured drowsily, her eyes still closed.

Thranduil nuzzled her neck, grinning wickedly to himself. Charlotte was clearly exhausted, and he couldn’t help but feel smug that he had reduced her to such a state.

“And waste this opportunity to wake you up in such a delicious manner?”

Charlotte’s eyes fluttered open and she gasped as Thranduil nipped the sensitive spot on her neck. Sleep was quickly being chased away as reawakened desire coursed through her body.

Thranduil captured her lips and Charlotte quickly concluded that sleep was overrated, especially when one had the opportunity of being awoken quite nicely by the Elvenking himself. Really, there was no better way to start the day.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte stood under the shower, the warm spray easing the pleasant ache in her body. She sighed in a sense of contentment, feeling thoroughly sated. _Thranduil was a generous lover and he certainly wasn’t lacking any skills in the bedroom department._

Her eyes skimmed over the bruises on her thighs and hips that were the perfect match of the Elvenking’s fingertips, an exquisite reminder of what had happened between them last night.

Charlotte’s thoughts turned sombre, and she wondered if the enchanting elf was regretting his actions? She shook her head, knowing these thoughts were very out of place and wrong. Thranduil had made his intentions, as well as his feelings, very clear and she had felt nothing but honesty and sincerity in both his actions and words. Thranduil, an elf, was not like men of the human variety. He took his vows seriously, and if what he said was true, then he most certainly considered their union sacred and not to be defiled in any way. No, she was confident that Thranduil had no regrets, especially after they had wiled away the morning making love, his caresses and kisses expressing freely the love that he harbored for her.

Charlotte hopped out of the shower and after wrapping a towel securely around her, she made her way to her bedroom, noting that the power had been restored sometime during the morning when they had otherwise been occupied. The storm had now passed, though thick fluffy flakes fell in a continuous curtain of white, painting the lands in a crisp cleanliness that only new fallen snow seemed to possess.

Charlotte slipped on a pair of black leggings and a cream-colored long-sleeved top. She ran a brush through her thick waves and huffed in defeat. She sincerely hoped that when they went back to Middle Earth that the elves had something magical to tame hair such as hers. It really wasn’t fair that the elves were perfect in every way, from long lustrous hair to flawlessly smooth and unblemished skin. Not to mention bodies like sculpted marble. _Thranduil naked had certainly been a sight to behold._

She wondered, not for the first time, what Thranduil saw in her? Then the thought hit her: maybe it was because elves were physically perfect and surrounded by constant beauty that they overlooked the physical aspect and, rather, focused on the inner beauty and qualities of others. It would certainly make sense that elves placed higher value on personality rather that outer beauty.

Her thoughts drifted to the words Thranduil had spoken in reverence last night, both in Sindarin and English. Thranduil had meant everything he had uttered, and Charlotte knew in her heart that he did, indeed, love her with every fibre of his being.

A wide grin bloomed on her face and Charlotte had to restrain herself from skipping out of the room to find her pointy-eared King.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte entered the kitchen and found it empty of Thranduil’s elfy presence. The cloak missing from the coat rack alerted her to the fact that he must have gone outside. She peered out the window, her eyes widening at how much snow had fallen last night. The lands were blanketed in thick downy white and the artic wind had caused a rippling effect over the surface of the snow, and the branches of the trees struggled under the weight resting on their barren branches. Her eyes scanned the picturesque scenery, but there was no sign of Thranduil.

Charlotte decided to make herself a cup of tea and smiled to herself when her gaze came to rest on the forgotten dinner still laid out on the table. It was a waste, but she was unable to muster any guilt, especially considering what they had foregone dinner for.

She leaned back against the counter, sipping happily at her hot tea. The sound of the door opening broke her from her musings, and she turned to see Thranduil enter the kitchen, flakes of snow dusting his cloak and blending in with the white of his hair. His electric gaze found hers and he gave her a beatific smile that warmed her right down to her toes.

He closed the door behind him and came to stand in front of her, his hands resting on her hips with familiar custom. He ducked his head and brushed his lips against hers in a tender caress that sent her heart fluttering before pulling away, his eyes glimmering with an inner light that made them shine even brighter than before. There was a subtle difference in his demeanor that she could not put her finger on. It was almost as though sometime during the night he had lost the tension warring within him, and now in its place stood a lighter, more carefree ellon.

“Good morning,” he murmured against her lips.

“I think you already gave me a good morning,” she replied cheekily.

“Yes, that I did.” He grinned humorously at Charlotte and pressed a featherlight kiss on the tip of her nose before straightening. “But before you tempt me into whiling away the day encumbered in the warmth of your bed, there’s something I would like for you to see.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “I doubt anybody could tempt you to do something you don’t want to do.”

Thranduil’s features softened and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have more power over me than you realise, little one.”

Charlotte could have melted into a puddle. He really knew how to be eloquently charming when he wanted to be. “I think it goes both ways, Thranduil.” Charlotte inwardly cringed. She, on the other hand, did not possess Thranduil’s ability to spout poetic verses.

Thranduil, though, didn’t seem to mind her lack of finesse and merely smiled warmly at her words. Taking a step back, his hands clasped behind his back, he stated, “Dress warmly. What I want to show you is outside.”

Charlotte glanced behind at the decidedly frosty scene outside, and every ounce of her body rebelled at the thought of stepping out into the chill that would surely numb her to her bones. She glanced back at Thranduil, noting the restrained excitement lurking in those cerulean depths, and found she could not refuse him.

“Alright then. But if I get hypothermia, you’re warming me up,” she stated as she grabbed her jacket from the coat rack and slipped it on, along with her winter’s boots.

“It would be my pleasure,” he murmured from behind her, his warm breath ghosting against the nape of her neck and causing Charlotte to shiver at the promise lacing those words. “Now stop tempting me, woman, and get ready.”

“Stop distracting me and I will,” she fired back, unable to stop the grin that now graced her face. She enjoyed moments likes these with him when they playfully bantered. Theirs was proving to be such a natural and easy-going relationship, something she had never experienced before in the past.

Charlotte zipped up her jacket and pulled on her knitted hat and gloves before stepping out the door, the chill hitting her square in the face and causing her to gasp. She involuntarily shivered and ducked her head to stave off the cold.

“Is it far?” she asked, yearning to retreat into the house as quickly as possible as the chill bit into her exposed flesh.

Thranduil glanced down at her, a slight frown marring his porcelain features. “I forget how fragile the human body is, especially against the natural elements.”

“Compared to your superior biology, yeah, us humans are a fragile bunch. So, what did you want to show me?”

Thranduil turned his attention forward and whistled a low musical call that echoed in the silent terrain. Charlotte peered closely at the trees that surrounded the property, waiting, but there was no sign of anything, magical or otherwise.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Thranduil held up his hand, causing her to halt with the question on the tip of her tongue. His keen eyes were focused intently ahead, and Charlotte followed his line of sight. She was starting to think that nothing was going to happen, but then a dark form stepped out from the shadows of the trees.

Charlotte gaped as her mind made sense of what it was: a moose. It was the biggest bull she had ever seen, taller than Thranduil even. As the moose ambled closer, Charlotte could make out the deep, rich chocolate brown of its coat flecked with a light dusting of snow. Its dark soulful eyes stared back at them with guarded curiosity, though Charlotte marvelled that there was not a hint of fear in those deep pools. She had to wonder if this had something to do with Thranduil’s presence? The antlers were massive in her eyes, and Charlotte was now distinctly aware that if this creature had a mind to, it could kill her with one charge.

She edged closer to Thranduil, but he was already making his way towards the formidable creature, his cloak flapping around his ankles with the movement. He was talking softly in that musical dialect of his, his strange words floating on the air in a soothing and calming tone.

Charlotte held her breath as the moose eyed Thranduil’s cautious approach, his hand outstretched as he continued talking to the animal in his poetic language. Thranduil halted, and after what felt like eternity, the moose took a tentative step forward and bowed his large head to the King, clearly having been won over by the elf and his pillow-talk.

It was in this moment that Charlotte truly glimpsed the scared bond that Thranduil had with the land and the animals that inhabited it; this relationship only fuelling the fact that Thranduil was an otherworldly being. As he stood before the majestic animal, stroking the fur on its elongated nose, Thranduil appeared every bit in his element.

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder at her. “Come here, Charlotte.”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head in refusal. “No way! He’s freaking huge!”

“And he is gentle in nature.”

Charlotte swallowed hard. She knew Thranduil would not put her in harms way and she was going to have to trust that his instincts were correct with this animal. _But, Goddammit, it didn’t mean she wasn’t scared out of her wits!_ She made her way to the duo, her legs feeling like jelly and her heart pounding in her chest.

She paused as a dawning realisation hit her: Thranduil’s footprints were barely imprinted in the snow. _How was that possible? She had personally dragged him into the house the day he showed up here, and she could vouch that he was no lightweight. In fact, if it weren’t for the adrenaline, she was sure she would have been wheezing in the corner after that exertion._ Charlotte recalled reading the part about Legolas virtually gliding over the snow, light-footed and weightless. Maybe is was from years of practise, or maybe it was something in their genetics. Or maybe it was magic. Thranduil was adamant that there was no such thing as magic, but Charlotte was calling bullshit on that notion. Everything about him was magical. But maybe it was the fact that magic was the norm for elves that they could not comprehend that it was anything else but normal. So, when humans did suggest that it was magic, the notion was incomprehensible to them.

Charlotte shook her head. _There was still so much she had to get used to when it came to Thranduil._ The moose raised his head at her approach and Charlotte instantly stilled as its beady eyes stared at her, and she could not stop the frantic beating of her heart.

“It’s alright. He will not harm you,” Thranduil assured, reaching out his hand to her. Charlotte nervously took it and let Thranduil draw her to his side. “Trust me,” he whispered against her ear.

“I do, but he’s just so…big.” _Terrifying was the word she wanted to use_.

“He’s smaller than what Bethril was.” A sudden melancholy overcame him, and Charlotte suddenly realised that Bethril must have been his beloved elk that had been slain not too long ago. She squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“He was a loyal friend and will be missed dearly.”

She watched as Thranduil smoothed the rough fur between the moose’s eyes all the way down it’s bulbous nose. With what little courage she had, Charlotte took off her glove and tentatively recached out, resting her hand against the velvety soft muzzle. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding when the moose did not react and simply accepted their affectionate touches.

“He is beautiful,” Charlotte conceded, feeling braver as she scratched lightly under the beast’s chin. The moose stretched it neck, allowing her to get better access and she had the smile to herself at how remarkably gentle it was, especially for its size. Or maybe it had something to do with Thranduil’s connection to the bull.

“He is quite magnificent in his own right,” Thranduil agreed.

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to see that Thranduil had taken a step back and was now watching the two of them interact, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. There was something else in his eyes, and it took her a moment to realise that it was wistfulness.

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Charlotte said, “You want to keep him as a pet, don’t you?” _That’s all fine and dandy, just as long as he doesn’t try to bring it into the house…_

“If we were back in Middle Earth, I would highly consider it. He is a good-natured animal and has a pleasant temperament. He would be loyal to a fault, but I think our paths are meant to travel in different directions. Though I do wonder if he would allow me to ride him…”

Charlotte’s head snapped in his direction. _He wasn’t serious, was he?_

But Thranduil was, indeed serious. He strode forward, speaking softly in his musical language, and Charlotte’s jaw hit the ground when he gracefully leapt onto the bull’s back, the movement so quick and effortless that it almost seemed as though he had flown through the air. Thranduil stared down at her from his high perch, looking every inch the regal Elevnking he was, and he extended his hand.

Her eyes widened as she realised that he wanted her to join him. Charlotte hastily stepped back, shaking her head. _No way! Nope! Big double nope!_

“I assure you, Charlotte, that you will be perfectly safe,” Thranduil intoned. “I will allow no harm to come to you.” Thranduil paused as a thought occurred to him. “Have you ever ridden before.”

“Certainly not a moose!”

Thranduil grinned down at her. “Yes, I can imagine you haven’t. And what about a horse?”

Charlotte shook her head. After being bitten at a petting zoo as a child, she had a rather healthy fear of the creatures.

Thranduil studied her for a moment with that eerie unblinking gaze and finally murmured something in Sindarin. The moose snorted and then to Charlotte’s disbelief, it knelt down, its spindly legs folding under it.

“Trust me, little one,” Thranduil said softly, his voice breaking through her fear and astonishment, and she glanced up to see that his slender hand was still extended, waiting patiently for her consent.

As she stared at Thranduil, Charlotte knew in her heart that he would protect her. She did trust him, inexplicably.

Swallowing hard, Charlotte took his hand and climbed rather clumsily in front of him. The moose immediately rose on its long legs and Thranduil wrapped his arm around her waist drawing her close to him. His scent washed over her senses, calming her racing heart as his body molded and conformed behind her, becoming one with her. Charlotte realised she had nothing to hold on to and decided to clutch tightly at Thranduil’s arm like a lifeline.

“Do not fear. Tallagor will keep the pace slow.”

“Tallagor?”

“That is his name,” Thranduil said simply as the moose started to walk with slow and deliberate strides in the clearing. “It means Swift Foot.”

“You’ve already named him?” Charlotte couldn’t help the chuckle that rose to the forefront. “Yeah, you’ve most certainly made him your pet. No bringing him in the house, though.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” His tone, though, implied that the thought had crossed his mind.

They went around at a leisurely pace, Charlotte slowly getting comfortable on the moose’s back and the tension leaving her as both beast and elf endeavoured to calm her nerves. Finally, they neared the house and Thranduil spoke to Tallagor again in his language. The moose knelt down in obedience, allowing its occupants to dismount.

Thranduil leapt off first and turned to help Charlotte dismount. The moose rose to its feet and they both watched as he sauntered off, disappearing into the outcropping of trees.

“That was quite the experience,” Charlotte stated in wonder.

“I would have preferred an elk, but a moose will do, I suppose.” Thranduil glanced down at the awe-struck woman at his side. “When we get back to Middle Earth, you are going to receive riding lessons.”

“On an elk or a horse?” Charlotte clarified as they entered the house.

“Both,” was his answer.

The ringing of the phone cut off any argument Charlotte may have presented, and she rushed to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Charlotte,” Carl’s voice sounded on the other end. Charlotte instantly stilled, the tone in his voice sounding very serious, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Thranduil draw nearer to listen.

“What’s wrong, Carl?”

Carl, true to his nature, cut straight to the chase. “There’s been a new development. Lucy was in a car accident last night. They had to do an emergency deliver of the baby, and both are in critical condition. The outlook is not very good.”


	26. Chapter 26

It felt as though all the air had been knocked from her lungs, only to be replaced with ice seeping into her veins. Charlotte hadn’t known what news Carl was going to give her when she answered the phone, but she most certainly hadn’t expected this. _This was not good. Not good at all._

Even though Lucy, whom she had once considered a trusted friend, had betrayed her in the worst possible way, Charlotte would never had wished this fate upon her. And the baby…the baby was innocent in all of this. Regardless of the actions of his mother and father, the baby definitely did not deserve this.

Charlotte recalled the guttural pain that had lanced through her when she had heard via the grapevine that Lucy and Eric were expecting a baby boy. In the blink of an eye, Lucy had stolen the life Charlotte had always envisioned for herself. The feeling of anguish and betrayal stayed with her for a very long time, but now…now she would give anything to know that Lucy and the baby were safe and well. There was no satisfaction in knowing that two lives were hanging on by a fragile thread.

Charlotte walked towards the living room in a daze, absently noting that Thranduil was following behind her like a silent shadow. She placed the phone on the coffee table and pressed the speaker button before settling heavily into the sofa, suddenly sapped of all energy.

“You there, Charlotte?” Carl’s gruff voice sounded from the speaker.

“Yeah…yeah. I’m here,” Charlotte replied, leaning forward and grasping her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. “I have you on speaker. You want to repeat that last bit for Thranduil?”

“Hey Thrandy boy! How goes it in your neck of the woods?” Carl boomed cheerily.

Thranduil, who stood off to the side with such eerie stillness that he could be mistaken for a statue with his rigid posture and expressionless face, frowned at Carl’s oddly phrased greeting.

“If you are enquiring about my wellbeing, then I am quite well, Carl,” he replied is his rich, melodious voice before striding towards the window, his hands clasped behind his back and his long platinum hair stirring ever so slightly at the sudden movement. Stillness settled over him once more, with only his keen eyes flickering to and fro as he scanned the scenery outside.

“So pish-posh. Pity you didn’t have a British accent to go with the whole package. You might have won Charlotte over sooner.”

Charlotte inwardly groaned, though part of her had to agree with Carl. If Thranduil had possessed a British accent…the thought was almost too much.

“I’ll bear that in mind, Carl,” Thranduil replied, a shadow of a smile gracing his lips as he glanced over his shoulder. “Now what was it that you wanted to discuss?”

Carl repeated his earlier statement and Thranduil’s porcelain features became as hard as alabaster as he listened; his demeanor composed, though there was no denying the undercurrent of tension thrumming through his lithe body.

“Do you think Eric is responsible?” Thranduil enquired.

“That’s the thing. Thomas told me that he saw Lucy run out the house and hightail it out of there. Eric tried to stop her from leaving and looked visibly upset when she drove off.”

Charlotte glanced up, her brows furrowing. “It must have been something pretty bad for Lucy to risk driving out in the storm.”

“My money’s on Eric scaring the bejeezus out of her,” Carl supplied.

Charlotte shook her head, her waves bouncing around her face with the movement. “No, I don’t think so.”

Thranduil pivoted his body so that his attention was now solely on Charlotte, who was deep in contemplative thought, her hands clasped in front of her as she jiggled a foot. He studied her with shrewdness, his frown deepening. He wouldn’t put anything past Eric, but Charlotte seemed to be holding on to her conviction that this time, he was innocent.

“Care to share with the class?” Carl asked, his sceptical tone mirroring Thranduil’s thoughts.

Charlotte rubbed at her face tiredly. “I know Eric, Carl, and I know that he wanted a child more than anything else in the world.” Charlotte paused and glanced at Thranduil with what could only be described as guilt before she continued. “He and I tried for a child for a while, but without success. When Lucy became pregnant…well, I could understand why he jumped at the opportunity to start a life with her. She could give him what I couldn’t.”

Thranduil blinked in stunned surprise at this revelation. He had almost forgotten that Charlotte had previously built a life with this other man, and children would have been something they would have planned. He remined expressionless, keeping the neutral mask in place, though he could not deny the pang of jealousy that coursed through his veins. 

Charlotte glanced away from his penetrating gaze; pain written all over her features. “Eric, regardless of what he is, loved children and he wanted this child. He would not risk the safety of Lucy and his son. Something else must have happened to set Lucy off.”

Silence settled thick and heavy like a stagnant pool of water. Charlotte was studiously avoiding Thranduil’s intent look, fidgeting nervously as the weight of the hush became unbearably oppressive.

Finally, Carl’s voice cut through the silence, like an axe being swung down with force. “Well, it certainly explained why Eric agreed to lay off when I threatened to tell Lucy about what he’s been doing to you. The bugger did seem nervous.” Carl paused. “If what you are saying is true, then I would have to wager a guess that Lucy somehow found out about Eric’s obsession with you.”

“You didn’t…”

“No. For once I am innocent,” Carl huffed, cutting Charlotte off. After a brief interlude, he continued. “I think we have already established that our boy is a bit unhinged, but if the worst should happen to Lucy and the baby…”

“He’ll lose it completely,” Charlotte finished.

“Indeed,” Carl said dryly. “Maybe you should consider leaving, Charlotte. Go to the safe house I’ve set up for you.”

Thranduil abandoned his sentinel by the window and came to sit in the armchair, settling into the soft cushioning with all the liquid grace his kind possessed. He crossed his long legs at the knee and grasped the armrests as he sat upright with poise. At this moment, he was completely emulating the haughty King of the Woodland Realm; his demeanor radiating the composed and calculating elf who did not allow emotions to hinder his judgement.

“Carl is correct. It would be foolish to wait for Eric to strike first.”

Charlotte chewed her bottom lip, indecisiveness showing plainly on her pale features. “But there’s still a chance that Lucy and the baby will pull through…”

“And what then? You continue to remain there like a sitting duck and wait for his obsession with you to build up again until he finally decides to do something about it?” Carl snapped.

Charlotte sighed. “Maybe this will be a wake-up call for him. Maybe Eric will now realise that he stands to lose his child and girlfriend, and maybe he’ll…stop.” Her argument sounded weak even to her ears.

“That’s a lot of maybe’s, Charlotte dear.”

“I know,” she muttered. “But I want to wait and see what happens. Hopefully Lucy and the baby will pull through and Eric will change.”

Carl tsked loudly, clearly growing impatient with Charlotte. “Charlotte, you know I love you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s because I love you that I’m going to tell you straight up: you’re being an idiot!”

Thranduil, although he agreed with Carl, decided diplomacy was in order before any more harsh words could be exchanged. Charlotte was being unreasonable, this much was true, but it was going to take some gentle prodding to find out the true reasoning behind her stubbornness.

“Did you manage to find out whether Eric is responsible for the death of Charlotte’s parents?” Thranduil asked Carl.

“No. Nothing. Nada. Either Eric did a good job of covering his tracks, or he had nothing to do with it.”

“But why send me those pictures then?” Charlotte asked.

Thranduil turned his sharp gaze towards her, stating his thoughts before Carl could offer a reply. “It was meant as a warning Charlotte. Something to induce fear into you so that you would comply to his demands.”

“Eric’s a sick puppy, that’s for sure,” Carl grumbled and then let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll continue to monitor the situation with Lucy and the baby, and I’ll let you know if there’s any change. In the meantime, I want you to be on your guard, Charlotte. And if I call and tell you to run, you run. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Been a while since I was called that,” he chuckled. “It’s a good thing I didn’t earn the rank of Colonel. Colonel Sanders is not a title I would have been able to live down. Though, talking about KFC has made me hungry. I think I might order a bucket…”

Thranduil’s brows knitted together in confusion. The way this human man could swing from annoyed to hungry in such a short span of time was beyond his comprehension. There was still so much he did not understand about this world and trying to grasp what Carl was rambling on about was certainly testing his patience.

“Carl, if you are quite finished reminiscing about food, there is something else that is concerning me.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. Carry on.”

“If you did not provide Lucy with information regarding Eric’s activities, then who did?”

Carl’s mutterings stopped dead as he mulled over the question. “Eric may have gotten careless. He might have had some photos lying around or accidently left his email open.”

Thranduil raised a brow, clearly showing that he thought this scenario was highly unlikely, but he remained silent.

Carl sighed heavily, knowing this theory was not very plausible. “I’ll get Thomas to do some snooping. Now I need to go. Be careful Charlotte, and you look after her, Thranduil.”

The fact that Carl had not called him by one of his nicknames spoke volumes about how serious Carl was at this very moment.

Before Thranduil had a chance to reply, Carl had already hung up.

Thranduil turned his attention to Charlotte, who was now biting her thumb nail as she stared off into space.

“Carl’s manners leave much to be desired,” he stated dryly.

Charlotte gave a half-hearted smile, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere. Thranduil rose to his feet in a fluid motion and strode over to the window. There were a few things he needed to discuss with Charlotte, but he knew he was going to have to broach the subject with tact.

The silence stretched out between them like a vast ocean.

Thranduil finally spoke from his spot, his arms folded in front of him as he stared straight ahead. “May I enquire as to why you are hesitant to leave, when not too long ago you readily agreed to come back with me to Middle Earth?”

“Because this time it’s different.”

Thranduil turned his head slowly to stare at her. “How so?”

Charlotte sighed and leaned back into the sofa; her eyes closed as she rested her head against the headrest. “When I agreed to go with you to Middle Earth, it was because I wanted to. I still do. But now…now I am being forced to leave, and I resent it.”

Thranduil nodded. It was a plausible enough explanation, but there was more to it than she was willing to admit to and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. He stared at her, waiting for her to be forthcoming with her reasonings.

Charlotte opened her eyes, and Thranduil was perplexed to find tears shimmering against her lashes. “And I also feel guilty.”

“Whatever for?”

“The baby,” she said, her voice cracking. “If it weren’t for me, the baby wouldn’t be fighting for his life right now.”

“The action of his mother and father have absolutely no bearing on you, Charlotte. You cannot blame yourself for something you had no control over.” Thranduil stopped as a thought became crystal clear to him. “You want to stay and find out if he survives or not.”

Charlotte gave a small nod. Thranduil continued to stare at her, unnervingly quiet in his censure. Elves were compassionate and were not without empathy, and he loved that Charlotte possessed similar traits, but her soft heart was going to get her killed.

Thranduil turned away from her. It had been so long since he had been able to be freely compassionate, given his position as ruler of his kingdom. There was also the fact that his long life and numerous encounters with evil had jaded his mindset. Maybe there was much he could learn from Charlotte when it came to being emphatic.

“Very well,” he said after a few moments. “I can understand your reluctance and we will wait, if that is what you so wish.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Thranduil remained silent and once again a hush descended the room.

“I’m sorry that you had to hear that bit about Eric and me,” Charlotte said softly, interrupting his thoughts and completely catching him off guard.

Thranduil’s attention was once more drawn to her, noting that it was a different kind of guilt that now overshadowed her.

“It is understandable that you planned a future with Eric, Charlotte, and at some point, children would have been discussed. I do not hold your past against you, little one, and I never shall. The past, regardless of all the lessons it has taught us, is exactly that: the past.”

Charlotte studied her hands and finally glanced up at him, uncertainty shimmering in her eyes.

“But our future might not have children in it, Thranduil.”

Thranduil blinked in surprise. True, he had not yet entertained the idea of having children with Charlotte, given the fact that they had just recently entered into a relationship together. But now she was strongly hinting at the fact that she might not be able to bear children, and Thranduil found that he didn’t quite know what to make of this news.

He had made peace a long time ago with the fact that Legolas would be his only child, and as such he tended to be a bit overprotective over him. _But if he had the opportunity to have children with Charlotte, would he take it?_ Thranduil didn’t have an answer to that question.

Charlotte sighed and glanced away. “Eric and I tried for two years, Thranduil, with no success. Not even a few months of being with Lucy and he knocked her up. It’s safe to assume that I am the one with fertility issues.”

She sounded so broken at this admittance, that Thranduil found he could not bear to witness such heartbreaking pain coming from her. He walked with swift strides and sat down next to her, taking her hand in his own. Their fingers entwined with familiarity in what had now become second nature, and he marvelled at how perfectly her hand fitted in his.

“I take it that you wanted children?”

“Yes,” she whispered, unable to meet his penetrating gaze. “But I’ve come to accept that I’ll probably never have children of my own.” Charlotte finally met his gaze. “This is not a discussion I thought I would be having with you any time soon, Thranduil. But now that we’re having it, it’s only fair that you know that if you’re with me, there’s a strong possibility that I might not be able to give you a child.”

Thranduil raised her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on the back of her hand. “I’m with you because I love you, Charlotte. Not for your ability to give me children. My love for you will not diminish, regardless of whether we have children or not.”

“You say that now, but you’ll change your mind. Eric said that it did not matter, but in the end it did. It really did.”

Thranduil shifted closer and cupped her face between his palms. “I am not Eric, Charlotte. My love is true and will not waver. By your side is where I’ll stand. Always.”

The tears glistened in those hazel depths. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“I merely speak the truth, little one.”

Thranduil brushed his lips against hers, his eyes fluttering closed as the kiss deepened and sealed his promise. 

The kiss tapered off and Charlotte curled against his side, resting her head against his chest as she listened to the strong and sure beat of his heart. His strong arms wrapped around her gave her a sense of security and she couldn’t help but feel contented that he truly accepted her, flaws and all. It didn’t matter whether they had children or not. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

Suddenly she tensed and Thranduil glanced down at her in concern.

“What’s wrong, Charlotte?”

Charlotte pushed away from him, her face looking very pale. “I…I just realised…” Charlotte swallowed hard and finally met his gaze. “If we get married…”

“ _When_ we get married,” Thranduil corrected firmly.

Charlotte continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “I’m going to be…” She looked up at him with wide, horror-stricken eyes. “Legolas’ stepmom!”

Thranduil blinked once as her words sunk in, and then he burst into unrestrained laughter. _Of all the things to plague her mind, this was the singular thought that troubled her the most!_

“It’s not funny, Thranduil!”

Thranduil suppressed his laughter, though his eyes twinkled with his mirth.

Charlotte stood and made her way to the kitchen, her gait stiff.

“Where are you going, little one?” he asked with a wide grin.

“I think I need a stiff drink,” she muttered. “I wonder if Carl left any of his moonshine stashed away somewhere.”

“Alas, I have already searched and none was to be found. But we still have a few bottles of wine left,” Thranduil said as he followed her into the kitchen. A bottle of wine (or three) sounded like a splendid idea, especially after all the revelations today had yielded.


	27. Chapter 27

 

The bright morning rays of sunlight filtered through the crack in the curtains, shining with annoying persistence straight onto Charlotte’s face.  She let out an annoyed groan and burrowed deeper into the warm covers, reluctant to let go of the last remnants of sleep. As the last imageries of sleep were chased from her mind, a satisfied grin found its way on her lips: a grin that only a certain Elvenking was responsible for. Charlotte rolled over but was disappointed to find Thranduil’s side of the bed cold and absent, with only his scent lingering on the sheets.

Charlotte sat up, leaning back on her elbows as she recalled the events from the previous night. She could not blame her lethargy this morning on a hangover, as Thranduil had seemed particularly determined to keep her otherwise occupied after her second glass of wine. And he had done a damn fine job of doing just that. All through the night. At least until she had fallen into an exhausted and thoroughly sated slumber, enveloped in his protective arms.

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table, noting that it was a little after nine in the morning, and sighed. Thranduil would have been up for a few hours by now, being the early riser that he was, but she had been hoping that he would be here to give her a very nice wake-up call.

Charlotte flung back the covers and hopped out of bed, absently stepping over their clothes that had been shed on the floor, and made her way to the bathroom. The rejuvenating shower fully awoke her senses and afterwards Charlotte made quick work of getting dressed in black leggings and a long-sleeved red top before heading downstairs to find her elf.

Thranduil was neither in the living room nor the kitchen, and the absence of his cloak and boots suggested that he was probably outside. Charlotte decided to make a cup of tea while she waited for his return. She happened to glance out of the window and witnesses a scene that bought a smile to her face.

Thranduil and Tallagor were standing in the snow, which glistened like a quilt of glittering diamonds in the morning sunlight. The proud and regal Elvenking faced the mighty moose, an enigmatic smile alighting his luminous features as he produced an apple from a bag and fed it to his new pet. Tallagor happily munched away on the crisp, juicy fruit and when Thranduil turned to gaze into the distance, the cheeky animal nudged the elf, clearly demanding more.

Thranduil openly laughed at his antics, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stroked Tallagor’s nose. Charlotte was certain he was reprimanding the animal for his gluttonous ways, though only half-heartedly.

The boiling kettle cut through Charlotte’s thoughts and she proceeded to make a cup of tea before shoving on her jacket and boots. She paused and decided to grab a few carrots from the fridge before heading outside to join them.

Thranduil and the moose both turned around at her approach and Charlotte held up the carrots enticingly, determined to get on friendly terms with Tallagor. She was still wary of him and felt it wouldn’t hurt to butter him up a little bit. After all, she did not possess Thranduil’s charismatic ways and had to rely on bribery instead.

“Don’t encourage him, Charlotte. Tallagor has proven to have a greedy appetite,” Thranduil stated, though the warm glint in his eyes contradicted his disapproval.

Charlotte fed a carrot to Tallagor and grinned wickedly at Thranduil. “Reminds me of you.”

“I am not greedy,” he replied evenly. _Except, maybe, when it comes to wine._

“No, but you sure had the appetite last night.”

Thranduil narrowed his cerulean eyes at her, a coy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “When it comes to you, then yes, my appetite knows no bounds,” he replied smoothly, taking a predatory step towards her.

Tallagor chose that moment to swiftly step between human and elf, nudging Charlotte for more of her offerings.

Charlotte chuckled and fed him the rest, watching with rapt attention as he polished off the carrots in record time. She glanced up to see Thranduil studying them with a contentedness enveloping him. An inner light glimmered just beneath the surface of his skin, giving him a soft, ethereal glow. In this moment, surrounded by the pure white snow and picturesque scenery, Thranduil was an embodiment of a creature borne from beauty and perfection.

Carrots now gone, Tallagor turned his attention back to Thranduil, who merely sighed in resignation and produced the last apple from the bag, which the moose gobbled right up.

“If you get a stomach ache, Tallagor, it will be your own fault!” he chided.

Tallagor showed no signs of caring in the least. Sensing that there was no more food to be had, he let out an indignant snort and ambled away without so much as a backward glance.

“Well, there’s some gratification for you,” Thranduil said with mild disdain as he watched the moose disappear into the woods.

“Hmm, seems we’ve found the one thing that is impervious to your irresistible charms,” Charlotte said, taking a sip from her tea.

“I must be losing my touch.”

Charlotte glanced sideways at Thranduil, but his attention was still trained on the line of trees ahead, a faraway look painting his face. There was a sense of melancholy settling over him, and Charlotte found that she wanted to erase such a mood.

Setting her mug down onto the snow, Charlotte scooped up a handful of snow and molded it into a snowball. Then, trying to be as quiet as possible, she took aim and threw. In the blink of an eye, Thranduil pirouetted away from the shot and stared back at her with a cool and calculating gaze.

“What exactly were you trying to do, little one?” he enquired as he slowly started to advance towards her.

“I was trying to hit you with a snowball,” she squeaked, taking a step back.

“For what purpose?”

“For fun.” Charlotte frowned. “Have you never had a snowball fight?”

Thranduil paused, thinking over her question. And there, in the ageless depths of his eyes, Charlotte glimpsed the truth: Thranduil, King to the Woodland Realm, had not partaken in frivolous activities in a very long time for the mere fun of it. This revelation saddened her, for his life in his kingdom must consist of rigorous rules and expectations that he could not deviate from.

Charlotte scooped up some more snow, which instantly had Thranduil’s full and undivided attention. His ice blue eyes flickered from her hand to her face, and he slowly arched a brow, giving him the added affect of superiority.

“Do you truly think you will best me in a snowball fight?”

Charlotte grinned cheekily and nodded.

“Need I remind you that I am an elf: a race far more superior to that of humans. You have no hope of winning such an endeavor.”

Charlotte shrugged. “Maybe, but I’ll have fun trying.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “So be it.”

Charlotte spluttered as a snowball hit her square in the face, and she hastily swiped the cold flakes away. _She hadn’t even seen him move!_ As she glanced up, observing the wide grin and twinkle in his eyes, Charlotte chuckled, knowing that this was how she always wanted to see him: carefree and without the weight of the kingdom resting on his shoulders. She would gladly take many more snowballs to the face to witness him like this.

They returned to the house much later, Charlotte a sodden mess and Thranduil humming merrily to himself and noticeably dry. Charlotte cast a sideways glance at the Elvenking, who merely smirked as he felt her eyes on him.

“You fight dirty.”

“No. I fight with skill. You, on the other hand, fight with…chaotic enthusiasm.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying that I suck at fighting?”

“Very much so.”

Thranduil easily dodged the smack intended for his arm and chuckled as she tried again without success. A lightheartedness descended upon the two as Charlotte chased him, the game far from over; even when Thranduil tackled her into the snow and then proceeded to carry her into the house to ‘warm’ her up.

 

***

 

Monday was proving to be a typical Monday: tedious and dragging on in an endless march. Charlotte sat at her desk deep in thought, which was solely focussed on Lucy and her baby. Each time she reached for the phone to call the hospital, she would hesitate and think better of it. _Carl would surely notify her of any changes but waiting for news was proving to be difficult_.

_Lucy_ …Charlotte and Lucy had been close friends since childhood, where most weekends were spent with sleepovers at each other’s houses. They had been as thick as thieves and had shared many happy moments together, and as they had grown older, they had been there to comfort each other through the angst and hardship of teenage years. Charlotte, naively, had assumed that their friendship would withstand the test of time and they would be the type of friends that would raise their children together and ultimately grow old together. Their bond had seemed unbreakable.

So, what had changed that? Charlotte, at the time, would have confessed that she had been blindsided by the romance that had blossomed between Eric and Lucy, but looking back, she had to wonder how she had not noticed the little clues? The signs that had been so obvious.

When Charlotte had first introduced them, Lucy had seemed a bit flustered and reserved around Eric, which had been unusual for the bubbly blonde, who had not been without admirers and often basked in the attention she received. But her reaction to Eric had been different. Subtly so. Looking back, Charlotte realised that Lucy had become irrevocably smitten with him, her eyes shining brightly whenever he entered the room and a special smile that seemed reserved just for him. If Charlotte had to guess, Lucy had fought her feelings towards Eric, but in the end, she had lost the battle. _How hard must it have been to be secretly in love with your best friend’s fiancé, knowing that no matter what you did, someone would get hurt?_

It was no excuse for what they had done. Their actions had been despicable, regardless of which way one looked at it, but Charlotte was not without understanding and she knew that Lucy really did love Eric. But lately, especially after Eric’s unhinged actions, Charlotte had to wonder if Eric even loved Lucy back? Or was he with her because she could give him the child he so desperately wanted?

Charlotte’s mind drifted to the baby once more and her heart ached that one so innocent should be bought into this world surrounded by tumultuous conditions.

The ringing of her phone snapped her out of her reverie and Charlotte fished in her handbag, her heartrate increasing when she saw that it was her throwaway phone – there was only one person who had this number. She hastily stepped out of her office, making sure to close the door behind her, and answered it.

“Hi, Carl. Please tell me you have good news.”

There was a slight pause on the other end and Charlotte leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as she waited for the bad news to fall, although she had desperately hoped for otherwise.

“Afraid not, Charlotte dear. Lucy passed from her injures about an hour ago.”

Charlotte sucked in a deep breath, feeling the salty sting of tears pooling her eyes, and she thumped her head back against the wall.

“And the baby?”

“Still in critical condition.”

Charlotte swallowed thickly. _The poor baby…_

“But there’s something more concerning…”

Charlotte’s eyes flew open. _What could possibly be worse than this?_ “What is it?”

“I’ve lost all communication with Thomas. He’s not answering any calls or replying to any of my texts. I think something has happened to him. Something bad.”

A chill sliced through her body at this news. If Carl was concerned, then it meant that the situation was very bad indeed.

“You remember me saying that if I told you to run, you should run?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s time to run, Charlotte. Head back home right now, pack up elfy boy and disappear.”

Charlotte swallowed hard. She had known this moment was coming, and yet she still felt unprepared for it. But Carl was right: the time had come to go on the run.

“Alright. I’m leaving now.”

“Good. I’ll call you on the other phone later tonight. Make sure to dispose of your other phones. And Charlotte?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.” The phone went dead, and Charlotte blinked a few times as she stared at the device in her hand. Snapping out of her haze, Charlotte turned and headed back into her office to grab her handbag.

A timid knock on the door startled her and Charlotte whirled around, instantly relaxing when she found that it was only Claire standing in the doorway.

“I was just heading out to lunch,” Charlotte hastily lied. She straightened but halted when she noticed Claire’s demeanor.

Claire’s arms were crossed protectively over her stomach and she was biting at her bottom lip, the red lipstick staining her perfectly white teeth. But it was the anxious look on her face that had Charlotte concerned.

“What’s wrong Claire?”

“I need to talk to you, Charlotte,” she replied, her voice hitching. She took a deep breath and was visibly trying to compose herself.

Charlotte glanced at the clock. She knew she had to get out of here pronto, but Claire was clearly in distress.

“Of course,” Charlotte said, dropping her handbag on her desk and sitting down in her chair.

Claire glanced over her shoulder and then closed the door softly behind her before coming to sit in the chair opposite Charlotte. She clasped her manicured hands together, wringing her hands as she warred with herself on how to proceed.

Charlotte frowned. She had never seen the immaculate Claire in such a state, and it unsettled her. She rose from her seat and was instantly crouched at Claire’s side, clasping the other woman’s hands in her own.

“Hey. It’s okay.”

Claire shook her head and Charlotte caught the tell-tale glimmer of tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to overflow at any moment.

“No, it’s not.” Claire sucked in a deep breath and looked Charlotte straight in the eye. “I’m responsible for what happened to Lucy.”

Charlotte frowned. “What do you mean?”

Claire tugged her hand free from Charlotte’s and wiped away the lone tear that had fallen. “Friday, after you left work early, I came into your office to place some paperwork on your desk. A folder fell onto the floor and when I went to pick it up, I saw the bug planted under your desk.”

Charlotte let out a _whoosh_ of air and sat back on her heels.

Claire continued. “I put two and two together and figured out that Eric had planted it the day he came here to see you.” Claire glanced down at her hands guiltily and then looked up at Charlotte, silently imploring her to understand. “I took the device and went over to Lucy.”

Charlotte stared at Claire in wide-eyed horror, all words eluding her. She watched numbly as another tear trickled down Claire’s smooth cheek, though her voice never wavered as she continued.

“I told Lucy everything: from Eric insisting to seeing you to the bug he planted in your office.” Claire finally broke down and sobbed into her hands. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t told Lucy, she wouldn’t have left in that storm and had that accident!” she wailed, her words slightly muffled through her hands.

A sense of numbness overcame her, and all Charlotte could do was rub Claire’s back in what was hopefully a comforting gesture. Claire was not a malicious woman by no means and Charlotte quite liked her, but her actions had set in motion a chain of events that had ultimately caused the catastrophic accident. If Claire had stayed out of this, Lucy and her baby would still be fine. But Charlotte was not cruel and held her tongue. In the end, the only one to blame was Eric.

“No, Claire. None of this is your fault. You only did what you thought was right. If anyone is to blame, it’s Eric.”

Claire nodded, though she still looked utterly miserable. Charlotte sat with her until she had finally calmed down, though Charlotte kept glancing at the clock all the while. _She really needed to leave. Now!_ _She didn’t have time to deal with this._

“I just feel so guilty.”

Charlotte turned her attention back to Claire and sighed. “Lucy would have found out eventually, Claire.”

“But what are you going to do, Charlotte? What Eric is doing to you is borderline psychotic.”

“I have someone who is helping me take care of it.”

Claire clasped her hand, her face still twisted with anxiety. “Can’t you call the cops, or something?”

Charlotte let out a bitter laugh. “Eric is CIA. He is way out of the reach of the police.” Charlotte stood and helped Claire to her feet. “Now, I suggest you take the rest of the day off and try not to worry about it.”

Claire nodded, still looking unsure, and suddenly ensconced Charlotte in a hug.

“Be careful, Charlotte.”

Charlotte awkwardly patted her back and then watched as Claire left her office. She waited a few moments, gathering her wits, and then grabbed her handbag and fast-tracked it to the elevator that led to the underground parking. As it descended, she zipped up her jacket and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the doors to open.

Finally, the _ping_ sounded, and she dashed out, walking with quick strides towards her car.

The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly raised and Charlotte paused, a sense of being watched coming over her. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she could not shake the feeling. She glanced over her shoulder, but all she could see were the cars parked in neat rows, the dim overhead lights barely illuminating the spooky atmosphere. Maybe it was watching too many horror movies as a kid, but Charlotte always had a healthy fear of underground parking lots and was always on the look-out for the boogieman to jump out and attack. Cabins in the woods also did not put her mind at ease.

Charlotte silently reprimanded herself and turned her attention forwards, gasping when she came face to face with Eric.

She reeled back, but Eric was quicker and had her instantly pinned hard against the wall, his hand clasped firmly around her throat. Icy fear shot through her body, but it also seemed to make her senses become sharper and more focused and she subconsciously took in his appearance. Eric looked almost like a wild animal compared to his usual smarmy self. His features were haggard, his hair a greasy mess and his usually clean-shaven face was sporting stubble. But it was the look in his eye that was the most unnerving of all: his eyes were soulless, a glassy reflection of a man that had lost everything and no longer cared what he did or who he hurt.

“It’s all your fault!” he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth.

Charlotte flinched, her fear paralysing her and all she could do was stare back at him with wide, fear-filled eyes.

“You told Lucy, didn’t you?!”

“No,” Charlotte gasped. His hand tightened marginally around her throat, and she clutched desperately at his wrist.

“Don’t lie to me! I know it was you!” he shouted, his voice resonating through the cavernous interior.

Charlotte stilled. There was no way she was going to tell him about Claire and her involvement. Regardless of what she had done, Claire didn’t deserve to have Eric’s sights set on her.

Eric took a deep breath through his nose, his nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowing dangerously.

When he spoke again, his voice came out in a low, menacing growl. “You are to blame for all of this. You and your meddlesome friends.” The moment stretched out as Eric studied her and he lifted his other hand to stroke her cheek, causing Charlotte to cringe against his touch. “I’ve already taken care of the one that has been following me around like a mongrel.”

_Thomas. He was talking about Thomas…_

“What did you do to him?” she rasped.

A dangerous glint entered his green eyes like shards of glass, and he drew his face closer to hers, his nose almost brushing against hers. “I killed him,” Eric whispered, a cruel smirk stretching on his lips. “A bullet straight to the head.  Have someone taking care of Carl as we speak.”

Her heart started beating frantically in her chest and Eric’s grin broadened at the fear that was plainly written on her face.

“And now I’m going to make you pay for everything you have done.”

Charlotte froze with fear as she realised that there was no reasoning with this madman. Eric had long since fallen off the rickety bridge of sanity, and now there was no coming back - especially after the death of Lucy. In his mind, she was to blame for everything that had happened.

_Fight back, Charlotte!_ she heard Thranduil’s stern voice order in her head. _If you are to have any hope of getting out of this alive, you need to fight back now!_

Charlotte instantly jerked her knee upwards and connected with Eric’s groin. His hold on her throat released as he fell to his knees, doubled over and now cradling his injured nether regions. Charlotte didn’t hesitate and she used the opportunity to try and flee.

But Eric grabbed her ankle and she fell to the ground, her palms hitting hard against the concrete. Sharp pain shot up her arms and Charlotte cried out.

_You need to get up now! If he pins you to the ground, you’re not walking away!_

Eric’s cold hand was still curled around her ankle. Charlotte sucked in a deep breath and twisted, swinging her leg around. Her boot connected with Eric’s head and he let out a howl, releasing his hold on her. Charlotte scrabbled to her feet and turned in time to see Eric pushing himself up. He lifted his gaze slowly and glared at her with venomous hatred. Everything seemed frozen in a fracture of time before shuddering back to the present, and Eric started to advance.

_Position yourself. Take a deep breath, and wait for the right moment…_

Charlotte listened to the inner voice that was emulating Thranduil and steadied herself, her mind focusing on her attacker as Eric advanced like a creature spawned from the depths of hell. Suddenly Eric charged and Charlotte leapt up, swiftly kicking out as Thranduil had taught her numerous times. Eric’s head snapped back, and she swore that his eyes rolled back into his head as he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

_Don’t waste time. Your attacks lack power and it won’t be long before he’s back on his feet. Get out of there now!_

Charlotte grabbed her handbag and quickly unzipped it, pulling out her gun. She kept it steadily trained on Eric as she inched backwards.

Eric groaned from his position and slowly turned his sights to her.

“If you make a move, I swear to God I will kill you, Eric,” she stated in a voice that was far calmer than what she was actually feeling.

“And risk going to jail. I don’t think you have it in you, Charlotte,” he sneered, though he didn’t dare move from his position.

“This gun has a silencer, Eric. How long do you think it will be before somebody finds your body? I’ll be long gone by then.” She levelled him with a glare of her own, willing him to see how serious she was. “You know perfectly well what a good shot I am. I assure you, Eric, I will not miss.”

The shift in his features let her know that he was taking her threat very seriously. Charlotte never took her eyes off him, even when she reached her car and climbed in. She gave him one more glance, and saw the promise painted on his face: Eric was going to kill her the next time he saw her. Charlotte sped out from the underground parking and raced to get back home. She had to remind herself to reduce her speed – she really didn’t want to get into a car accident now and end up with the same fate as Lucy.

As she drove Charlotte tried to call Carl, and panic started to mount to epic proportions when he didn’t answer after the third try. It was in this moment that she realised how precarious her predicament really was. Not only had Eric killed the last person who was like family to her, but he had also eradicated her one source of protection. Her only hope now was to get herself and Thranduil to the safe house that Carl had set up. Charlotte would have to wait until they were safe and far away to mourn. She couldn’t afford to break down now.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she made it home. She didn’t bother parking in the garage and instead grabbed her handbag and rushed inside.

“Thranduil!” she shouted, slamming the door behind her.

Thranduil instantly appeared in the kitchen like a phantom of the night. He stilled at the panic written all over her face, but before he could utter a word, Charlotte cut him off.

“We need to go now! Eric attacked me and I think he killed Thomas. Carl, too, as I can’t reach him on the phone, and Eric promised as much. We need to leave now! You need to get your things, Thranduil, and we need to get going,” she ordered, barely pausing for breath as she flung her handbag on the counter. She would no longer be needing its contents, except maybe the gun. She would have to retrieve it before they departed.

Thranduil remained unnervingly composed throughout her tirade, and she wondered briefly if he had understood her gibberish. But it was with relief that he gave a nod and disappeared from the kitchen without a sound. Charlotte didn’t wait another second and raced to the closet near the front door, grabbing the duffel bag as well as another bag she had prepacked with clothes for her and Thranduil.

Charlotte was running on pure adrenaline now, and barely registered the weight of the two bags as she made her way back to the kitchen.

_Better grab the crossbow as well…never know when that might come in handy…_

Charlotte froze in her tracks, all thoughts and preparations vanishing from her mind - for there was Eric with a gun pointed at her with cold precision.

 


	28. Chapter 28

The moment seemed frozen in a bubble of time; shuddering to a complete halt as Charlotte stood rooted to the spot, her eyes glued on Eric and the gun pointed at her. She could neither move nor form a coherent thought. Her lungs burning from lack of air could not break her from the spell, and still she was unable to draw a breath.

_So this is how it ends…_

This was the singular thought that made it through her mind with crystal clear clarity as she stared down the barrel, imagining the bullet that would end it all for her.

Charlotte finally drew in a shuddering breath, which sounded harsh and ragged in the oppressive silence that had descended the kitchen.

“Drop the bags,” Eric ordered, his voice like brittle shards of glass cutting through her shock.

Somehow, through the haze that had settled in her mind, Charlotte was able to comprehend his command and she reluctantly dropped the bags on the floor with a resounding _thud_.

“Raise your hands,” Eric growled.

His aim never wavered, and his sharp gaze never strayed from her. Charlotte realised in that moment that Eric was now viewing her as a threat and was thus being cautious, especially after witnessing firsthand what she was capable of in the underground parking. He was not going to be foolish enough to let his guard down again.

Charlotte slowly raised her hands, her heart beating a frantic crescendo in her chest. She knew she had to diffuse the situation somehow.

“Eric…”

“Shut up!” he snapped.

Charlotte obeyed, a sense of doom blanketing her. Eric could not, or would not, be reasoned with. He was also carefully keeping his distance. Eric was teetering on the edge of madness, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Where is he?”

Her mouth went dry. She knew he was referring to Thranduil.

“I…I don’t know.”

Eric’s green eyes flashed and he took a menacing step towards her, causing Charlotte to back up, her fear doubling.

“Move again and I’ll shoot you,” he warned, his dark tone leaving no doubt in her mind that he would do as he promised.

Charlotte stilled, her breathing coming out hard and fast now. Icy fear was now clawing through her veins and she could not halt the trembles coursing through her body. This was not good. Not good at all, and there was no discernible way out.

“Now tell me the truth. Where is he?” Eric took another step towards her, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to back away.

Charlotte shook her head, unwilling to give up Thranduil to the monster who would surely kill him on sight. If she died now for her refusal to cooperate, then so be it. At least she would die knowing she had not betrayed the one she loved.

There was a very good chance she would never see Thranduil again; she would never be enveloped in the warmth and safety of his arms, nor would she feel the deep love radiating from him when his kissed her and made love to her. They had only just begun, and now it was ending far too soon. The thought was morosely crippling.

Eric’s features turned thunderous and he advanced with quick and powerful strides, raising the gun as he prepared to strike her with it. Charlotte instantly backed away, only to find a wall blocking her feeble attempt at escape. As Eric neared, she flinched and covered her face to protect herself from the worst of the blows to come.

But the blow never came. Instead, a cry of pain echoed around the room.

Charlotte opened her eyes, which widened at the scene before her.

Thranduil had Eric by the throat and pinned against the wall. Eric’s face was blotchy and turning an alarming shade of red as he struggled for precious breath. But that was nothing compared to the rage simmering with barely held back restraint as Thranduil held the man in place. The Elvenking’s features were hard and cold like marble, and there was no mistaking the unrepentant fury that was about to burst forth like a violent and merciless storm.

“I should kill you,” Thranduil hissed, his unforgiving tone invoking cold fear in both Eric and Charlotte.

Eric scrabbled and clawed at the iron-strong grip curled around his throat, his eyes almost bulging out with the effort for both release and air.

Thranduil slowly raised Eric, and Charlotte gaped as Eric’s feet dangled in the air; Thranduil was holding him as though he weighed nothing. It was in this moment that she truly glimpsed the hidden strength that Thranduil possessed. If he wanted to, Thranduil could snap Eric’s neck with a mere flick of the wrist.

In a swift motion, Thranduil unsheathed his sword and now had the razor-sharp tip pointed at the man dangling like a puppet in his grip.

“I do not take kindly to anyone threatening the woman I love.” Thranduil’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

Eric looked like he was about to pass out, either from lack of air or fear, Charlotte couldn’t tell. Thranduil seemed to come to the same conclusion, for he suddenly flung the man away in disgust, sending him sprawling to the floor. Eric gasped and wheezed for air, unable to do much else as he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling with a glassy gaze.

“Would you like to know what I intend to do to you?” Thranduil growled menacingly, advancing on the pitiful excuse of a man.

Eric stared up at the elf, pure and unadulterated fear lacing his features.

Thranduil pointed his sword once more at his throat, his posture rigid as he readied himself to enact his threat. Charlotte watched with growing horror as his composure slipped and Thranduil morphed into someone she barely recognised. Before her now stood a warrior bathed in the blood of the countless enemies he had slain without remorse. She had known this side of him existed, but the reality of witnessing it firsthand was unsettling.

Thranduil and Eric gazes were locked for what seemed the longest time.

Finally, Thranduil broke the silence. “I am going to make you suffer for everything you have done to Charlotte.”

Eric visibly paled. Charlotte had never seen Eric scared before. It seemed so…pitiful, and she couldn’t bear to witness it anymore.

“Thranduil…” she spoke up, breaking out of her trance.

Thranduil stiffened. “Do not ask me to show him mercy, Charlotte. Especially not after all he has done to you.”

Charlotte took a wobbly step forward, her hand held out beseechingly to the Elvenking, silently willing him not to cross the line that he was plainly willing to cross.

The muscle in his jaw clenched and Thranduil kept his steely gaze on the man lying at his feet.

“Why should I show him mercy?”

“Because you are not like him,” Charlotte replied.

Thranduil gave a small smile, but it was without humor, and only enhanced his colder and more formidable side.

“You’ll have to give me a better reason than that, Charlotte. For he and I are very much alike - I will kill him without hesitation or remorse.”

“Then do it for me,” Charlotte implored, her eyes never straying from Thranduil, not even to glance down at Eric.

Thranduil’s attention snapped back to her.

“And why would you want to keep him alive?”

“Because I am not like him,” Charlotte whispered. After a pause, she added, “And neither are you.”

Thranduil’s dark brows knitted together as he studied her. What he saw in the depths of her soul made him twinge with shame. After all Eric had put her through, Charlotte still did not wish any ill will or death upon him. She was pure; unwilling to have blood spilled on her hands. _How far he had fallen that he had become hardened and unwilling to show an ounce of mercy._

He slowly turned his gaze back to the cowering man, and contempt washed over him. He felt conflicted. A large part of him yearned to put an end to Eric’s miserable existence. For if he didn’t, Eric would surely hunt them down. This thought was enough to wash away any pity he might have felt before.

Thranduil looked back at Charlotte.

“He will not stop. Eric will hunt us down to the bitter end, Charlotte.”

Charlotte closed her eyes, as though in pain. “I know.”

“Then why?”

She opened her eyes. “Because it feels wrong. It feels wrong to hold the life of someone in your hands and have the power to snuff that life out.”

“Now is not the time to have a deliberation of morals.”

“But it is, Thranduil. Without a moral compass, we are just as bad as him and the…and the orcs!”

Thranduil’s lip curled back in disgust at the mention of those foul creatures. _Was Charlotte right? Was he gradually turning as cruel and heartless as the hated enemy?_

He took a deep breath through his nose and in a fluid motion he sheathed his sword and took a step back.

Eric remained completely still, his eyes wide with fear and his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. _Did he realise how close he had come to meeting his maker?_

“Count yourself lucky that Charlotte has a softer heart than I,” Thranduil growled ominously.

“Who…who are you?” Eric stuttered.

Thranduil straightened to his full (and impressive) height, glaring down his nose at the man.

“I am King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.” The words rang through the room, reverberating power.

A beat passed. Then another.

Eric’s gaze flickered to Charlotte, recognition and confusion entwining together. She gave a curt nod to his silent enquiry. Eric’s gaze wandered back to Thranduil and finally landed on the pointed ears peeking through the gossamer silver-white of his hair. Eric’s eyes enlarged, and he paled even more as the reality of his situation hit him full force.

“Thranduil? As in Thranduil from the…Hobbit?” His voice was now shrill with disbelief.

Thranduil merely glared down at him.

“Yes,” Charlotte answered.

In a movement so quick, Thranduil suddenly had Eric grasped by the shirt, the material bunched tightly in his fist. He bought his face mere millimeters from the other man’s fear-stricken face.

“You had best remember who you are dealing with, Eric, because next time you and I cross paths, I will show no mercy.”

Eric never had time to respond. Thranduil punched him squarely in the face, effectively knocking him out. Thranduil let the human crumple to the floor and he straightened, a half-satisfied look gracing his luminous features.

“Is he…?”

Thranduil swiftly turned around to face her. “Dead? No. Though I wish he were.”

Charlotte tentatively took his hand in her own and looked up at him through her lashes. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Charlotte. This show of mercy was foolish. Mark my words, we shall pay dearly for it later.” There was no mistaking that Thranduil was angry. Very angry. But he was carefully holding his infamous temper in check.

Thranduil turned away from her and strode out the room with long strides, calling over his shoulder in a frosty tone, “We had best be leaving.”

Charlotte’s gaze flickered to the prone form of Eric, noting the spectacular bruise already forming where Thranduil had struck him. If Thranduil had not kept his strength in check, Charlotte was certain he could have killed Eric with one blow.

As she stared at the man she had once loved, she could feel neither contempt nor much else for him. She knew she had done the right thing by sparing his life. Morally, it had been the right thing to do. _But was Thranduil right? Would this come back to bite them on the ass in the long run?_ Like everything in life, the choice had been a gamble and only time would tell if it had been the right one.

Charlotte sighed and rushed out the room to collect the rest of their stuff. She would have to try and pacify Thranduil later when they were safe and sound. Right now, they needed to leave.

 

ooOoo

 

The tension in the car was as thick as sludge, with neither Charlotte nor Thranduil barely uttering a word to each other. Thranduil was still stewing over the events that had just transpired, and it was obvious that he was not very happy with Charlotte.

Charlotte was stubbornly refusing to back down and apologise for something she felt had been the right thing to do. Instead, she stared straight ahead, the scenery flashing by as she sped down unknown roads to get to the destination programmed into the GPS. Her body was taut with tension and her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Thranduil, too, was coiled with rage, wishing he could lash out and vent – anything to release the tension building up within him. _But what good would it do? What was done was done._ It didn’t mean, though, that he had to agree with it. And he was known for holding onto a grudge.

He cast his gaze sideways to Charlotte. She was resolutely staring straight ahead, her jaw clenched. He had no doubt that she, too, was angry, but there was something else to her demeanor that seemed slightly off. He slowly turned his head to study her full on, and he realised that her eyes were shimmering with held back tears.

The sight melted his frosty heart and the rage simmering beneath the surface suddenly faded away, replaced now with deep concern. This was an emotion that only Charlotte could bring out in him. She had an uncanny ability to call out his softer side. The fact that he had spared Eric’s life was testament to that.

He wanted to talk to her, but something in the way she was holding herself - almost as though she had erected an invisible wall between them - told him that now was not was not the time.

Instead, he slowly reached over and placed his hand on her knee, startling her. Charlotte glanced down at his hand and then at him, before turning her attention back to the road. But it had been enough for him to glimpse the relief that had flooded into those hazel depths.

He gave her leg a reassuring squeeze and murmured, “I am here, little one.” He turned his head to stare out of the window. “I will always be here for you,” he said more softly. He could not tell if she had heard his words, but he felt the tension leave her body, and part of him wanted to believe that she had.

 

ooOoo

 

They had been driving for what felt like eternity, though Thranduil attested that to the fact that this mode of transportation still made him uneasy. Being enclosed in metal and the unnatural roar of the engine did little to ease his fears. But he calculated that they had been driving for almost six hours now and night had descended not too long ago, splashing the world in an obsidian hue.

Charlotte turned right onto an unmarked road, the tires scrunching over gravel and snow. She slowed down as they made their way over the bumpy terrain, forcing Thranduil to clutch the armrests for stability. He couldn’t wait to exit this cursed machine.

“Where has Carl sent us?”

“Some place he thought we would be safe,” Charlotte answered, her voice hitching.

Thranduil stilled, a cold numbness settling over him at the fact that Carl was more than likely dead. He had been too preoccupied with dealing with Eric, and then his ire at Charlotte’s refusal to allow him to rid the world of his filth, that he hadn’t thought about much else. But now he realised that Charlotte was silently suffering with the fact that she had most certainly lost the last piece of her family. Words would not be enough to comfort her. Instead, his hand found its place back on her knee. It was but a small show of consolation.

They continued for another ten minutes on the secluded road that was lined on either side by thick and dense forest, their branches weighed down by snow and giving the last leg of their journey an ominous feel.

Finally, they arrived at their destination – an unlit cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Charlotte parked the vehicle and stared at the structure illuminated by the headlights of the car. She was gnawing at her bottom lip, and Thranduil patiently waited for her to come to a decision. _Would they stay or leave?_

“Well…Carl was correct with the fact that we would be safe here. It’s going to be impossible for Eric to find us here,” she murmured. Thranduil could neither agree nor disagree with her comment, so he remained silent.

She let out a tired sigh and cut the engine before clambering out. Thranduil followed suit, making sure to retrieve his swords that he had placed on the back seat. They unloaded their few possessions in silence and entered the darkened interior of the cabin. Thankfully, the door had been left unlocked.

Charlotte placed her things on the floor and switched on the light.

Thranduil blinked at the harsh and unnatural light that bathed the interior, and he scanned the place that would now be their home. For the time being.

It was spacious enough and would serve their needs. They were currently standing in the lounge area, which had a comfy couch and an armchair of a deep chocolate brown color nestled within. The chairs faced a large fireplace made of rough-hewn stone, and to the side were a few logs neatly stacked in a pyramid.

The lounge area was open concept, merging into the kitchen on the far side. Plain white cabinets lined the wall, and a matching fridge and stove were positioned on either end of the cabinets.

There were three doors that were currently shut: two on one side of the room and another on the opposite side. Thranduil concluded that they must lead to the bedrooms and bathroom.

He closed the door behind them, making sure to bolt the deadlock, and turned his attention back to Charlotte. She was just standing there, almost in a shell-shocked and catatonic state. It was understandable, considering that her whole world had just been turned upside down.

She turned dazedly, her warm eyes landing on his with what could only be described as a helpless plea. A silent imploration that he would assure her that everything was going to be alright.

Thranduil immediately dropped his load and had her ensconced in his arms, all past disagreements forgotten as he sought to comfort the woman he loved.

Her slim arms circled around his waist as she rested her head against his chest.

“What are we going to do, Thranduil?”

Thranduil kissed the top of her head, his hold tightening fractionally around her. “I don’t know, little one. But there is one thing I do know.”

Charlotte lifted her gaze enough to look up at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

Thranduil caressed her cheek tenderly. “We are together, and together we shall get through this.”

Her eyes shimmered with tears of gratitude.

His face softened as his own sorrow took a hold of him. “And I am truly sorry about Carl.”

The tears finally fell, falling like silent crystal teardrops down the contour of her smooth cheek. Charlotte closed her eyes in pain and leaned into him once more.

They stood there for the longest while, elf and human molding into one as they consoled each other. The outside world was now forgotten, the dark night hiding them from the rest of the world. For now.


	29. Chapter 29

“You’re still angry.”

“Immeasurably so,” Thranduil replied, though his words lacked any heat. Just a simple statement.

Charlotte sighed against his chest. At the time she had thought she had been doing the right thing by sparing Eric’s life. The odd thing was, whenever she read a book or watched a movie and the life of the bad guy was spared because of ‘moralistic’ reasons, she always rolled her eyes and thought to herself that she would never be foolish enough to act that way if she were in the character’s place.

But reality had been very different - frightfully different - and she found, as she stood to the side like a spectator about to witness something gruesome happen, she could not take Eric’s life. Not even after all he had done to her. She was not a killer. Never had been and never would be. And she most certainly couldn’t stand aside and watch Thranduil murder Eric. She knew the weight of what she had done would have crushed her conscience.

Now that they had escaped the immediate danger and were now relatively safe, she was starting to question her decision. Anger gave way to uncertainty, which quickly gave way to guilt.

Charlotte pushed away from Thranduil, unable to bear him witnessing her shame.

“Charlotte?”

She glanced up at him. _Why was he not shouting and reprimanding her for being so stupid?_

“You have every right to be angry. If I had listened and left when Carl told us to run, then Carl would still be alive…”

Thranduil cut her off. “Carl was already on Eric’s kill list, long before he told you to leave. Departing sooner would not have prevented Eric from going after him.”

Charlotte closed her eyes. Thranduil was right, but Carl would never have been on Eric’s radar in the first place if it hadn’t been for her. It seemed as though everyone who came too close to her of late was put in harm’s way. Including Thranduil.

Shen took a deep breath and opened her eyes, which were now burning with renewed strength. She was going to have to be strong in order to do this.

“You have to leave, Thranduil.”

Thranduil remained motionless, only tilting his head slightly to the side as he stared at her with unnatural stillness and silence.

Charlotte took a deep breath and continued. “It’s me that Eric is after. Not you.”

“I daresay that I have been in his sights for a while, ever since he got a whiff of my involvement with you.” Thranduil clasped his hands behind his back and levelled her with a stern look. “And I thought I had made it perfectly clear that I will remain by your side, regardless of what is to come.”

Charlotte shook her head sadly. “You should try and contact Galadriel and get her to bring you back home. You are not safe here. You are not safe with me.”

Thranduil’s ice blue eyes flashed with anger. “And what of your promise to come back with me?”

Charlotte stilled. This was something that had been bothering her for a while. “Do you honestly think Galadriel will bring me back with you? Because I, for one, doubt it.”

“You cannot be certain…”

“I know too much of future events that are to happen in your world. I pose a threat, Thranduil.”

Thranduil remained stonily silent as he stared at her. He shifted slightly, his demeanor changing to that of the haughty and frosty King she had first encountered.

“So you plan on just giving up?”

_To keep you safe and get you back home, yes._ Charlotte did not say this, though, and chose to remain silent in the face of his wrath.

Thranduil’s face hardened like perfectly sculpted marble. “You will not fight to be with me?”

Charlotte swallowed hard. _I am fighting, Thranduil, but I’m fighting to keep you safe._

“Stay here, Thranduil. I will leave and draw Eric away from you.”

Charlotte, her mind now made up, made to leave, but suddenly felt an iron grip wrapped around her wrist. She barely had time to gasp in surprise when she was yanked with force into the Elvenking’s arms.

“You are going nowhere,” he growled, his tone deep and dark.

Charlotte tried to struggle free from his grasp, but his hungry lips suddenly on her mouth quelled any arguments, and she struggled to keep hold on her quickly waning senses.

“Thranduil. Stop!” she gasped, pushing away from him.

“No, Charlotte. You are mine and I will not give you up, regardless of how foolish you are behaving right now.”

“No, you don’t understand…”

“I understand perfectly well.”

Charlotte stopped struggling and glanced up at him, seeing plainly that he had worked out her feeble plan. It was times like these that she wondered if he could read her mind.

“Like I said before, we shall get through this. Together. Now cast aside your foolish notions, little one, and trust me on this.”

“But…”

“We are safe for now. Carl was confident that Eric would not find us here, and I trust his judgement.” Thranduil released his grip on her and cupped her face between his calloused palms. “And you shall find that it will be very difficult to get rid of me, so please stop trying. It will do no good.”

Charlotte stared up at him. A myriad of thoughts warred within her, but she finally settled on one. “Galadriel needs to bring us back very soon.”

Charlotte didn’t need to voice it: time was of the essence and the sooner they returned to Middle Earth, the better. If not, Charlotte didn’t want to think how things were going to end for them. As she stared up at Thranduil, she saw the same conclusion settle in his features. The big question was: what was Galadriel waiting for?

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte woke from a fitful sleep, her eyes opening to the darkened room. She blindly reached out but was disappointed to find Thranduil was not in bed beside her. Charlotte sat up and switched on the bedside lamp, the rustic and somewhat bare interior of the bedroom becoming dimly illuminated by the lone bulb.

The two bedrooms were decorated similarly, with only a double sized springy bed, dresser and bedside tables being the only pieces of furniture. There was not even a picture hanging on the walls 9or a rug on the bare wooden floors, and in place of curtains were wooden shutters to block out the windows. It definitely gave the cabin a foreboding and unwelcoming feeling.

Charlotte shivered, longing for the comforts of her home that she had left behind. She hated his feeling of helplessness, as well as being driven away and go into hiding like refugees on the run. _Would this ever end?_ As the chill permeated the room, Charlotte was fast giving up on that hope. And hope was a very brittle thing of late.

Clambering out of bed, Charlotte grabbed her jacket and padded barefoot to the lounge area. Thranduil was not there either and the embers in the fireplace had died down to sooty ashes a while ago, leaving the cabin just as cold and barren as what she was feeling inside.

She made her way to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. At least she had the small comfort of tea to get her through this ordeal.

She opened the cabinets and found an assortment of canned food stacked neatly in multiple rows. In the bottom cabinet, she was unsurprised to find an array of liquor, each in a different shape and colored bottles. Carl, being the man that he had been, had always made sure to be stocked up on food and alcohol. The necessities of life, he had often stated.

Charlotte shut the cabinet doors, pain weighing heavy in her heart. She wished she could turn back time, at least to call him one last time and tell him how much she loved him.

Carl had always been a constant in her life growing up, often teaching her things that her parents had no time for - though he had given up on trying to teach her how to cook. That was deemed a lost cause. He also had a knack where kids were concerned and knew how to handle them and keep them entertained. Visits from him were akin to Christmas arriving early, and he had shamelessly spoilt her rotten. He was, essentially, the cool uncle, even though he was of no blood relation to her. Carl, no matter what he was doing, would always make time for her and she loved him for it. She supposed it was because he had been a big kid at heart, but had also had a love for children. She had often wondered why he had never settled down and had children of his own…

These melancholy thoughts washed away any appetite she may have had, and Charlotte felt a sudden need to go outside. Anything to escape the claustrophobic feel of this cabin. She pulled on her boots and stepped through the back door.

She shivered but welcomed the cold that now chased away her grief. In a way, it served to numb her emotions, which were threatening to bubble over and overwhelm her.

The day was overcast, the thick clouds overhead grey and heavy with the promise of more snow.

Her eyes were drawn to the Elvenking standing in the clearing, his cloak draped around his regal form as he stared intently into the dense woods.

No words were uttered as she wearily made her way to his side and they stood side by side, each immersed in their own thoughts.

The minutes ticked by, yet neither felt compelled to break the silence.

Then Thranduil glanced down at her, a beatific smile alighting his face and making his crystalline eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, which seemed out of place after all that had transpired.

Charlotte opened her mouth to question this sudden shift in mood, but she closed it when she detected it. There was a slight tremble in the earth beneath her feet, and a feint rustle could be heard coming deep from within the woods.

Suddenly Tallagor burst through the trees at a thunderous speed and Charlotte let out a shriek of surprise, instinctively clutching Thranduil’s arm in fright.

Tallagor skidded to a halt a few feet from them and let out a mighty snort. Charlotte stared at him wide-eyed, noting that the moose was breathing hard and fast, almost as though he had been running full tilt through the night.

“Tallagor?”

“The one and only,” Thranduil said with a mischievous grin.

Charlotte watched as Thranduil stepped forward to greet his beloved friend. The Elvenking rested his forehead against the moose’s own while he ran his hand along the rough fur of the moose’s neck. There was no mistaking the unbreakable bond these two shared.

“How?” Charlotte asked, still rooted to the spot in shock.

“He must have followed us,” Thranduil murmured, his head still pressed against Tallagor’s.

Charlotte stared at the animal with a newfound respect. It showed a great loyalty that he would follow Thranduil, even running for hours on end just to be reunited with his elven friend.

Tallagor let out another snort, albeit a tired one, and Charlotte felt pity for him. He was clearly exhausted.

“I’ll go and see if there’s anything in the fridge that we can feed him.”

Her words were ignored for the moment as Thranduil conversed in Sindarin with the moose. Charlotte frowned - it was almost as though he were baby talking the animal. _Who would have guessed that the great King was capable of such a thing?_ An image of Legolas as a young elfling flashed through her mind and she could almost picture Thranduil coddling his son in such a manner. This thought bought a small smile to her face.

Charlotte headed inside and as she was about to open the fridge in search of carrots or apples, a sound stopped her dead in her tracks.

It was a ringing noise. And it was coming from her duffel bag.

Charlotte frowned and slowly inched towards the bag that had been dumped by the front door. The muffled ringing stopped and then started up a few seconds later, causing Charlotte’s heart to pound in her chest. She knelt and slowly unzipped the duffel bag, retrieving the phone Carl had given her. She numbly stared at the unknown number displayed on the screen. _Was this some cruel joke. Carl had stated that he was the only one with this number…_

Charlotte swallowed nervously and hit the button to answer the phone, tentatively putting the device against her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Charlotte.”

Shock coursed through her body and all the air fled her lungs.

_No! It can’t be…_


	30. Chapter 30

“Carl?”

His name was uttered in a hushed tone.

“Who else would it be?” His tone, on the other hand, sounded slightly annoyed.

“But…I thought…Eric said you were dead!” Charlotte stammered, her mind a jumbled mess and still unable to process that not only was she talking to Carl, but that he actually was alive and his usual grumpy self.

“Yessss,” Carl huffed. “Remind me to put him on my To-Do-List. That son of a bitch blew up my house!”

“What?!”

“Let’s just say I’m not very happy with him. I had a nice collection of cigars that I was saving for a special occasion.”

Charlotte slumped down heavily on the couch, ignoring the dust that puffed up from the cushions.

“Carl! How can you be concerned about your cigars? Eric blew up your house, and all you can think about is _that_?! I thought you were dead!” Charlotte was vaguely aware that her voice had gone shrill, but at the moment she couldn’t care less. _How could Carl be so nonchalant about his goddamned house blowing up?_ She, on the other hand, was just relieved that he wasn’t dead!

“Those cigars were expensive,” he whined. “Do you know how long it took me to build up my collection?”

Charlotte ran her hand over her face in exasperation.

There was a slight pause on the other end, almost as though he could sense her consternation at him.

“Were you worried about me?” Carl finally asked, chuckling in amusement.

“Of course I was!” Charlotte paused, adding more softly. “I thought I had lost you, Carl.”

“Bah! It’ll take more than a bomb to get rid of me, my dear.”

Charlotte did not disbelieve it.

“How did you escape?”

“Well, a friend of a friend of a friend…”

“Carl!”

Carl let out a hearty laugh. “Let’s just say that I have a good friend working for the CIA. I happened to talk to her a while back about Eric and she has been keeping tabs on him ever since. She found out about his plans to send someone to blow up my house and warned me. I’m somewhere safe now.”

Charlotte felt immense relief that Carl had the mentality of a soldier and had had the foresight to prepare for every possibility. She still felt shamed that she had not heeded his advice in the first place, and he had paid the price.

“So the CIA is aware of what Eric has been up to?” Charlotte asked. _Why had they not stopped him?_

“Sort of. After my little chat with Eric not too long ago, and after speaking to my buddy, I went to his supervisor and told him a watered-down tale of what was happening. But you know how those government officials are. They want to do everything by the goddamned book and don’t want to believe the worst of their kind. Agent Philips finally agreed to start digging up dirt on our boy, but that sort of stuff takes time.” Carl breathed in a deep breath. “They recently found something that you might not be too happy about.”

“What is it?” Charlotte enquired, though she already had a suspicion of what it was going to be.

“Eric was responsible for the deaths of your parents. He did a damned fine job of covering his tracks, but with enough relentless digging, the truth was uncovered.”

Charlotte sat motionless. Her fears were now confirmed, even though she had suspected it, but she was unsure of how to process this news

Finally, she asked. “Why?” This was the big question. Thinking back, Eric and her parents had gotten along like a house on fire. _So why had he killed them?_

“Before I tell you my suspicions, there’s something else I managed to dig up.”

Charlotte slowly leaned back into the dusty cushioning, mentally preparing for what Carl had to tell her.

“You remember Sam?”

Charlotte frowned in confusion. “Sam? The guy I briefly dated in middle school?”

“That’s the one! Well, when I was at your house and the story of him was bought up about his sudden move across the country…well, it got me thinking. So I decided to track him down and he had an interesting tale to tell. Apparently, his pets were mysteriously poisoned, each with a note pinned to their corpses with a warning that if he didn’t leave, he would be next.”

Charlotte bolted up in her seat. “You think Eric did it?”

“I’m certain of it,” Carl affirmed. “But there’s no proof.”

Charlotte ran her hand through her hair, her heartrate starting to increase as Eric’s true mask was now being revealed.

“It seems our boy was obsessed with you from an early age and wanted Sam out of the picture. You and him started dating shortly after Sam left, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought so.”

_Now that Carl had laid it out, it was starting to make perfect sense. But…_

“So why kill my parents? They adored him.”

“I do have a theory, though that’s all it is: a theory.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Carl obliged. “Eric’s obsession with you started turning dangerous over the years, slow enough not to be noticeable. I’ve encountered a few control freaks like him in my many years, and the one thing they all have in common is alienating their victims. He saw your parents as a threat; people he had to vie with for your attention, and he reasoned that they needed to be cut from the picture.” Carl sighed. “This obsession with you is not a healthy one - not that any obsessions are ever healthy, but this is scarier because he did it in such a sly and underhanded way. It shows a cunning and intelligent monster. Tell me, Charlotte, did he keep you from your friends or forbid you from going out?”

It was like something clicked in her mind – a puzzle piece falling into place.

Every time she had mentioned going out with co-workers, or spending time with Lucy, Eric would deflect or suggest that they go out and spend time together as a couple instead. He had manipulated her in such a way that at the time she hadn’t even realised that he had been doing it.

“Son of a bitch,” she hissed.

“Exactly. Things could have gotten pretty bad for you, but something else happened.”

“What?”

“His obsession turned to Lucy.”

Charlotte blinked in surprise. _Of course…_

“I looked into it and it didn’t take long for Eric to isolate her from her family and friends. I’ve spoken to her parents and a few friends and they all confirmed it: Eric turned Lucy against all of them.”

“But…” Charlotte paused. This was all speculation, so there really was no telling what Eric’s true motives were. “Why is Eric still obsessed with me?”

“Thrandy boy came into the picture,” Carl simply stated. “Eric did not like the idea of someone else poaching on what he believed was his territory.”

As far as theories went, everything Carl had told her was plausible. Charlotte drummed an agitated beat against her knee as she mulled over his words.

“So the CIA has proof that he killed my parents then?”

“Yup. Unfortunately, they only found all their info at about the same time that Lucy died, and that’s when Eric completely lost it. He has now gone AWOL and they’re now trying to track him down and bring him in.”

“And what of the person Eric sent to blow up your house?”

“In custody. He, unfortunately, has no affiliation with the CIA - just some badass that Eric conned into doing his dirty work for him. Dude has no information on Eric or his whereabouts.”

Charlotte hung her head. She had been holding onto the hope that Eric was being detained by the CIA at this very moment. _Maybe she should have let Thranduil kill Eric when he had the chance. Especially now that she knew the truth about Eric._

“I see you’re at the safe house,” Carl said, interrupting her self-criticism.

“Yeah, we arrived here last night. Eric attacked me at work and then showed up at my house.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw it on the surveillance.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “You put cameras in my house?!”

“Yup!”

Charlotte gulped. _What else had he seen?_

Carl, as though sensing her thoughts, chuckled. “Don’t worry, Charlotte dear. All things concerning lover boy have been erased. Don’t want the CIA knowing there’s an elf in our midst.”

Charlotte counted to ten to control snapping at the man that she had mourned not too long ago, but his lack of filter or boundaries was starting to wear thin on her patience. Then another thought occurred to her.

“Do you have cameras in here?”

“You betcha.” There was a prolonged pause. “Best to keep certain…activities to the bathroom area…or outside…”

Charlotte ground her teeth but kept her scathing thoughts to herself.

“Stop looking so angry, Charlotte. You’re going to give yourself wrinkles.”

Charlotte whirled her head around, searching in every direction as the meaning of his words sunk in.

“You’re watching me right now?”

“Of course.”

Charlotte flipped the middle finger up in the air, a deep scowl on her face. Carl barked out a laugh on the other end of the phone.

“That’s my girl. Oh, looks like elfy boy is heading inside now. Nice moose by the way.”

“Our new pet,” she remarked drily.

Just then the door opened and Thranduil stepped in, his sharp eyes scanning the room and settling on her. He must have become worried when she had taken too long coming back outside, and had come in to see if she was alright.

Her ire from a few seconds ago evaporated and Charlotte motioned him over excitedly.

“It’s Carl! He’s alive!”

Relief flooded his perfectly defined features and a genuine smile bloomed on Thranduil’s face.

“Put me on speaker phone,” Carl ordered.

Charlotte complied.

“Thrandy boy!” Carl crowed.

Thranduil sat down with liquid grace next to Charlotte, taking her hand in his own as though it were second nature.

“I’m am relieved to hear that you are still among us, Carl,” Thranduil stated, his grin widening.

“Is that a fancy way of saying you love me?”

Thranduil arched a supercilious brow, and Charlotte struggled not to laugh at the bromance that had been struck up between the two.

“As I was telling Charlotte,” Carl continued in all seriousness now, “Eric is on the run and the CIA are searching for him as we speak. In the meantime, I want you two to stay put and lay low. Can I trust that you’ll follow those orders, Charlotte?”

Feeling abashed at this subtle, yet not so subtle rebuke, she replied sheepishly, “Yes, Carl.”

“Good. You have my permission to give her a good spanking if she tries anything idiotic, Thranduil.”

Thranduil’s lips twitched at the deep blush that suddenly graced Charlotte’s face.

“I will follow your orders impeccably,” he replied. With growing amusement, he watched as Charlotte blushed an even deeper hue.

“Good. Now I must be going. I’ve got me a psychopath to hunt down,” Carl said with unrestrained glee.

“Carl,” Charlotte interrupted with haste before he could do his notorious act of hanging up without even saying goodbye. “Please be careful.”

“Will do,” Carl said, his tone now softer.

“And…I’m so sorry about everything.”

There was a pause, and Charlotte vaguely wondered if he had, indeed, hung up on her.

“The only one that is going to be sorry is Eric for destroying my cigars.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes good naturedly. She knew Carl was deflecting, what with him being uncomfortable with anything to do with sappiness.

“Now I really have to get going…”

“Carl?”

“Bloody hell. What is it now?”

“I love you.”

Carl was silent for a moment.

“I love you too, Charlotte dear.” And with that he hung up, probably out of embarrassment.

Her thoughts now drifted to Eric and this new revelation concerning him. _How had she not seen it before?_

“Charlotte, what is it?”

Charlotte blinked, realising that Thranduil had missed that part of the conversation with Carl, and she proceeded to retell the story to him. He was thoughtful by the end of the tale, but didn’t seem surprise.

“It is good that you escaped his clutches.”

Charlotte stared at their entwined hands. Yes, she had been lucky to escape, but it had not been because of her level headedness or wits. She was alive because of Thranduil and Carl. Her stupidity had almost cost them, and she would have to live with that guilt for the rest of her days.

She sighed a long and heavy sigh. “I’m sorry that I was so stubborn and would not listen to you and Carl. I was behaving like such an idiot. I _feel_ like an idiot.”

“As well you should.”

Charlotte shot him a mean glare, but Thranduil merely grinned back at her.

“You are, after all, only human. If I have learned anything in my many years is that humans are notorious for making poor judgement calls.”

“Not reassuring, Thranduil.”

His features softened. “But for all your faults, Charlotte, you possess a certain fire and passion, along with a healthy amount of empathy – traits I could possess more of. And yes, you made some unwise choices, but I understood your reasonings and do not begrudge you for the decisions that you felt, in your heart, were the right ones.”

Thranduil paused, running his thumb idly across the back of her hand. “Elves may be composed, knowledgeable and in control of our emotions and actions, but it is this control that has led to a certain lack of…sprit and compassion. It has caused us to become guarded and closed off.”

Thranduil paused, lost in his inner musings. _He had long since closed off his kingdom and kin from the outside world, preferring to shelter them from the darkness that threatened to suffocate them all. He would have long remained in his isolation, refusing to aid the rest of Middle Earth if the actions of Thorin Oakenshield had not spurned him into action…_

“So you’re saying that elves are not perfect?” Charlotte asked in mock surprise.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I never claimed otherwise.”

There was an impatient bellow from outside and Thranduil let out a long-suffering sigh.

“That would be Tallagor, impatient for his food as always.”

“We’d best feed him before he decides to batter down the door.”

“I would not put it past him,” Thranduil muttered, rising to his feet and drawing Charlotte along with him. He drew her in his arms and placed a soft kiss against her forehead. “You may be human, Charlotte, but you shall forever hold a burning light in my heart. Foolishness and all. I have accepted all you faults, just as you have accepted mine, and I would not have you any other way.”

Charlotte smiled against his chest at his words. Thranduil stated that there was much he could learn from her, but there was so much more she could learn from him. Maybe together they could strengthen each other.


	31. Chapter 31

“Is he going to be okay?”

“That is, indeed, the question,” Thranduil replied as his keen eyes narrowed in on a particular spot somewhere deep in the dense woods. The sun high in the sky cast a glorious glow to the ethereal Elvenking, though it did little to diminish the biting cold.

“It’s just…he’s been there for a few hours now.” Charlotte turned her worried gaze to the elf beside her, who stood tall and composed.

The corner of his mouth twitched, no doubt trying to suppress his amusement at the situation.

“Yes, a whole bag of prunes would put Tallagor in a certain amount of…distress.” A wide, cheeky grin finally cracked through the stoic facade and Thranduil glanced down at her with a mischievous twinkle in his ice blue eyes. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to give him those.”

“I didn’t plan to! I couldn’t find anything else, and I thought I’d give him one or two, but the bugger snatched the bag right out of my hands and galloped off with them.”

“A mistake I’m sure he won’t make again,” Thranduil chuckled.

A soft breeze whispered through the trees and fingered the loose strands of her hair as they stood on the back porch of the cabin. Charlotte absently swiped away the annoying strand tickling her nose and turned her sights once more to the line of trees ahead.

“They won’t hurt him, will they? It was a rather large bag.”

“I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”

A loud, pitiful and drawn out wail echoed back to them, disputing Thranduil’s claims.

“Maybe we should go and check on him…”

“Best not to,” Thranduil objected.

“Why?”

“If the smell is anything to go by at this distance, then you most certainly do not want to be any closer to Tallagor than necessary right now.”

“Ah.” Charlotte crinkled her nose. “Wait, you can smell him from here?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Thranduil replied, his tone of that of mild distaste.

Charlotte grinned widely at him. “I bet this is the one time you regret having a far superior sense of smell than humans.”

Thranduil merely smiled at her remark, though his gaze never left the line of trees. Another mournful bellow sounded, followed by a few frustrated sounding grunts.

Finally, the elf turned with a flourish, his cloak fluttering around his ankles, and turned his full attention to her.

“Best we leave him to it. Let nature take its course, and all.”

Charlotte cast a doubtful glance back at the spot where she presumed Tallagor was, but had to trust that Thranduil was right and everything would work out in the end for the moose.

“So, what do we do in the meantime?”

Thranduil’s gaze darkened as his eyes slowly raked over her form, and Charlotte felt herself go weak-kneed, her belly fluttering in anticipation for what she was sure to come.

Thranduil closed the distance, his arm snaking around her and his hand coming to rest on the small of her back as he drew her flush against him.

Her pulse quickened as his velvety soft lips brushed against the shell of her ear, causing her to shiver.

“I can think of a few things…”

His tongue darted out and he slowly and deliberately tasted the flesh on her neck. Charlotte angled her head to give him better access, her mind quickly turning to mush.

“I would like to see you…” he murmured, his hot breath ghosting against her quickly heated skin.

Charlotte clutched at the material of his cloak, her lips parting slightly and her eyes fluttering closed as Thranduil nibbled delicately on her earlobe. _Oh, what was he going to suggest?_

“…with that crossbow in your hands.”

Her eyes flew open. _That was not a suggestion she had been hoping for!_

“Wh…what!” she croaked, feeling utterly confused.

Thranduil released his hold on her and stepped back, a wicked grin plastered on his now smug face.

“I would like to teach you how to hunt.”

Charlotte blinked stupidly, her frazzled brain still trying to rewire itself and make sense of what he was suggesting. It didn’t help that her body was aching with the need that only the Elvenking could fulfill.

“You want me…to hunt?” _But…but I thought we were going to do something more…fun!_

“Yes. Was there something else you had in mind?” he asked innocently, though the wicked gleam in his eyes was anything but.

“Quite a few actually,” she remarked snarkily, paired with a mean glare. _Like force feeding you some prunes…_

As though reading her thoughts, Thranduil’s grin broadened.

“Careful, little one. I have full permission to spank you if you misbehave.”

“Then consider me on the naughty list,” she muttered darkly, walking past him to go back inside.

Thranduil followed her, openly amused at how tightly wound up she was at this moment. The lack of restraint humans possessed often amused him and witnessing it on Charlotte was no exception. But anticipation was key, and being an elf with limitless patience, he wanted to see how far he could push her before she broke and demanded a release. His guess was not very long - which was a good thing because when it came to Charlotte, his willpower only extended so far. He was at her mercy just as much she was at his.

 

ooOoo

 

“I can’t do it,” Charlotte whispered.

‘You can and you will,” Thranduil murmured against her ear as he stood behind her. He was being careful not to touch her, but Charlotte could sense his presence anyway; she could feel his essence flooding her senses until she could think of nothing else but him.

She clenched her jaw, determined not to be distracted, and sighted down the crossbow at the snow-white rabbit foraging for sparse food in this wintery wonderland.

She hesitated. “But why? It seems so cruel to kill it.”

“You eat meat, do you not?”

“Yes, but that’s different. I don’t actually have to kill my food in order to eat it.”

Thranduil was silent for a moment. “If you plan to come back to the Woodland Realm with me, you will be expected to live the life of a Woodland Realm elf. That means you will learn to ride, fight and hunt, among other things.”

“You are forgetting one thing – I’m human.”

“You are treating the fact that you are human as a limitation.”

“It is. I’m no match for an elf.”

“You are a match for me,” he stated quietly.

Charlotte paused, all excuses and arguments dying instantly on her tongue, and she glanced back over her shoulder at Thranduil. His expression was purely honest and shone with the simple truth of his words. She realised that he believed in her and was pushing her to reach her capabilities. If he could view her as his equal, then she could nothing else but strive to live up to his expectations. It was the least she could do.

She gave him a small smile and turned her attention back to the rabbit. She breathed in deeply through her nose and pulled the trigger.

 

ooOoo

 

They trudged back home – well, Charlotte trudged. Thranduil glided upon the snow with agile and liquid grace, leaving no prints in his wake.

Thranduil cast his gaze sidelong at the woman beside him. Her hands were thrust deep into the pockets of her jacket and her head was ducked, her mass of hair obscuring her features from him. Her shoulders were hunched, giving her stature a sense of dejectedness.

Thranduil wagered that this depressive mood was because of the dead rabbit now clasped in his hand.

“I sense that you are upset.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

Thranduil paused, collecting his thoughts. “There is never any joy in taking a life, regardless of whether that life belongs to an animal or other wise.”

“So why do it? I thought elves held sanctity for all life forms?”

“We need sustenance,” he stated simply. “But we certainly do not garner any enjoyment in taking the life to fulfill our appetites.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip. “Why not become vegetarian then?”

Thranduil gave her a calculating look. “Why haven’t you?”

Charlotte opened her mouth to respond but shut it again. It was all good in theory, and she had briefly debated becoming vegetarian after killing the poor bunny, but her other instincts had kicked in and she knew that was not the life for her. They could go around in circles debating the pros and cons of vegetarianism, but in the end, it really was about personal choice.

As she stared back at the elf, she knew she had learned a valuable lesson, though. There was a price that was paid to quell her hunger, and she could not and would not let that sacrifice go to waste. It was abhorrent to kill for sport, yes, but killing to stay alive was vastly different. A necessity. She would need to get over her qualms if she wanted to survive in her world, let alone Thranduil’s. For his world was another world altogether.

 

ooOoo

 

The pot simmered on the stovetop, the delicious scent of their supper permeating the air and thusly eradicating all guilt.

The thought of surviving on the canned food in the cupboards was enough for Charlotte to shove aside previous thoughts of vegetarianism and willing devour whatever they were forced to hunt for.

There had been no perishable items in the fridge and Thranduil had managed to forage for edible roots, which were currently in the pot along with the bunny rabbit. He had patiently shown her what to look for, and she marvelled that even though he was not from this world, he still possessed knowledge of what was safe to eat and where to find them. She realised that he was slowly and patiently teaching her the ways of his life, or at least preparing her for it. She doubted, though, that Thranduil and his subjects lived a primitive lifestyle, but teaching her these survival skills was a necessity. Especially in Middle Earth.

“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” Thranduil stated as he came to sit beside her on the couch. He shifted slightly, and she guessed that he had inadvertently sat on the spot where a particular nasty spring tended to poke through.

“Any ideas on how to pass the time?” she asked as she glanced around the bare room in almost a daze. There was not even a television set to occupy and while away their time. She was really starting to miss the finer comforts of the life she had been forced to flee from. _Get used to it, Charlotte. There’s definitely no cable or internet in Middle Earth._

She groaned at the thought, which earned a quizzical look from Thranduil.

“I just realised - this will essentially be my life from now on. No television. No Google. No YouTube. How do you keep yourself entertained back home?”

“I find drinking inconspicuous amounts of wine helps with the tedium.”

Charlotte gaze was drawn to the cabinet that housed all the liquor. _Tempting…_

Then her eyes landed on Thranduil and she knew exactly how she wanted to pass the time.

His eyes widened fractionally when he noted the flash of predatory hunger that flared in her hazel eyes.

Charlotte didn’t waste time and straddled his lap, ignoring the spring that now dug into her knee. She was on a mission and nothing was going to stop her.

“I have something much better in mind,” she stated with unnatural firmness, weaving her hands through the silky strands of his hair.

Thranduil levelled her with a knowing look. He briefly contemplated toying with her, but his hands came up of their own accord and came to rest on her hips, and he discarded any such notions. As he gazed at her, her features now burning with an unquenchable fire, Thranduil found himself being drawn to her flame and was helpless to resist.

His hands shifted to the soft curve of her bum and he suddenly pulled her flush against him, resisting the urge to moan as she ground against him in such a tantalising manner.

Her mouth was instantly on his, hungrily demanding more as their tongues danced sensually against each other, eager and wanting more. Her nails scraped against his scalp as she deepened the kiss, the fervent and ardent nature of the kiss reaching a crescent.

Charlotte broke away, gasping for air as she stared at him with unchastened boldness.

“I want you. Right now. And I don’t care if I have to chain you up to get what I want,” she growled before leaning forward and trailing her tongue over the sensitive tip of his ear, causing Thranduil to shiver at the provocative sensation.

Suddenly Charlotte found herself flipped over, pinned under the looming form of the Elvenking, and her arms effectively pinned on either side of her head.

Thranduil smirked down at her and closed the distance, nipping the sensitive flesh just under her ear and causing Charlotte to squirm beneath him.

“As much as I admire your show of dominance, there is one thing you are forgetting, little one,” he stated, his lips brushing against her ear and his voice deep and dark with desire.

“What?” she gasped.

“It is I who is always in command and control. The role of dominance is mine and mine alone. You shall find that it is _you_ who will be tied up.”

Charlotte stilled, unable to comprehend what she had just heard.

Thranduil pulled back slightly, his face a beautifully painted mural of predatory intent. She gulped audibly.

“Elves...You…” she stammered. “I, uh, didn’t think you lot were into that…sort of stuff.” _Bondage was the last thing she expected of the Tolkien elves._

The corners of his mouth slowly curved into the most salacious grin she had ever witnessed, pooling a fresh wave of desire deep within her core.

“Care to find out exactly what I have been withholding from you?”

Charlotte stared back at him, her face morphing into that of seriousness as her brows knitted together.

“Charlotte?” he asked, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in her mood.

“It’s just…when we make love…” she sighed. “I get the feeling that you are holding back.”

Thranduil blinked. He hadn’t thought the restraint he had been exercising during their lovemaking had been noticeable. But Charlotte had obviously noticed.

Thranduil swiftly sat up, watching as Charlotte followed suit with less finesse and grace.

“Are you…are you holding back?” she asked tentatively, almost as though she were afraid of the answer.

“Yes, I am.”

Charlotte frowned again, the hurt seeping into her features.

“What are you holding back from?”

Thranduil swallowed, the movement almost imperceptible to the naked eye. _The time had now come to tell her the truth._

He took her hand in his own, their fingers entwining of their own accord. He finally met her gaze.

“I’ve been holding back from bonding with you.”

Confusion replaced hurt. Finally, she asked, “Bonding?”

Thranduil nodded once and elaborated. “It is a joining of fëas. Or, as you call it, spirits. Each time we make love, it gets harder for me not to form this bond with you.”

She sat back, clearly thinking over his brief explanation. “Is bonding even possible between humans and elves?”

“Yes.”

“And when you say bonding…is it like marriage?”

Thranduil watched her, gauging her reaction as he stated, “It runs deeper than a mere marriage ceremony. The act of lovemaking could be constituted as marriage, but it has not been the custom for quite a while. The bonding of fëas, on the other hand, is infinitely more and is formed between two who have given themselves completely to each other. It is the most sacred union.”

Her mouth formed into a little ‘o’. Then she puzzled. “Wait! Are we married?”

Thranduil breathed in deeply. “Yes.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened spectacularly. “What?!”

“We have not been officiated by a marriage ceremony.”

“So, we’re not married then?”

Thranduil sighed deeply. “Remember when I told you that elves view the act of lovemaking as sacred.”

“Yes…” she drew out the syllable.

“The night when we first made love, I gave myself completely to you, Charlotte. Heart, body, and…soul. In my eyes, I do view us as married, even though in actuality we are not.”

Charlotte slowly turned her stunned gaze away from him. She sat there in a daze for a few moments, Thranduil patiently waiting for her to process what had been unveiled. Finally, she admitted softly. “I gave myself completely to you as well, Thranduil. My feelings have not changed.”

“I know,” he said with a soft smile, recalling the deep and profound love he felt radiating from her every time they touched, kissed or made love. He did not doubt her feelings towards him, not even for a second.

She paused, clearly trying to pick the right question to ask. It was, after all, a lot for her to process. “Would forming the bond change much between us?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“I would be able to sense what you are feeling. I would feel your love, joy, excitement, pain, fear…”

Charlotte did not seem reassured by his words.

“Would you feel it if I died?”

Thranduil stared at her, careful to keep his features neutral. At last, he admitted quietly, “Yes.”

Charlotte shook her head in refusal. “Absolutely not!”

The abject hurt that briefly shadowed his luminous features caused her to halt her objections and she hastily took his hand in her own.

She took a deep breath and offered up an explanation. “Don’t get me wrong, Thranduil. I would gladly bond with you, but…what if I die?”

“You won’t,” he said firmly.

“Maybe not now, but eventually I will grow old and die.”

Thranduil paused. “Then I will cherish every moment I have with you. I have made peace with the fact that I will eventually lose you to your mortality. It does not mean it will hurt any less, but the memories we have together will stay with me until I fade.” _He left out the fact that her death would ultimately cause him to fade…_

Charlotte studied him for a few beats before finally saying, “I’d prefer for us to bond when we’re safe and sound back in Middle Earth. The thought of something happening to either one of us while Eric is still on the loose…I can’t bear the thought of you suffering if anything should happen to me…”

“I would suffer regardless if I lost you.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. She studied him for a few moments before asking, “Is it really hard for you to restrain yourself from forming the bond?”

“Mostly, yes. The urge to bond with you is akin to breathing air. It is a need that yearns to be fulfilled.”

She must have seen something deep in his soul that reassured her. “Okay.”

Thranduil gave her a beatific smile before cupping her face and kissing her deeply. He pulled away and said, “You have no idea how much that means to me that you’re willing to form this bond with me…” Thranduil paused in all seriousness. “But you are correct in the fact that we should wait until we are returned safely to Middle Earth.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. At least then, it will be more under more pleasurable circumstances.”

His penetrating gaze darkened, and a suggestive smile slowly alighted his features. “But I think I want to continue where we left off.”

In a movement so quick, Thranduil arose and had Charlotte thrown over his shoulder before she could utter a protest.

“Thranduil! What are you doing?!” she laughed, playfully swatting his irresistible bottom.

“You’ll find out soon enough. And if you plan to resist, then you shall, indeed, find yourself tied up.”

“Promise?”

Thranduil smiled to himself as he marched to the bedroom, smacking her bottom along the way and earning a yelp of surprise. He suddenly stopped as a thought occurred to him and turned back to switch off the stove. _What he had planned was going to take more than an hour…_


	32. Chapter 32

“Thranduil, stop!” Charlotte laughed; her protest half-hearted as she dangled over his shoulder.

“Most certainly not!” came his indignant, yet playful, response.

“No, you don’t understand. Carl has cameras set up all over the place. Even the bedrooms.”

Thranduil halted in his tracks, his hand resting in the doorknob.

“Does he now?” he growled, his mood subtly transitioning to that of vexation.

Just then the phone rang, the shrill sound cutting through the air.

“It could be important…” Charlotte remarked.

Thranduil let out a long-drawn exhale; a sigh that only a being of seven thousand years of age could master and use to convey his exasperation. He turned swiftly on his heel and marched over to the sofa where the phone was currently nestled on the armrest. He plucked it up and passed it behind his back to Charlotte.

“Hello?” she answered awkwardly in her upside-down state.

“Out of curiosity, Charlotte dear,” Carl drawled in his southern accent, “would you like for me to switch off the camera in the bedroom?”

“Yes!”

Thranduil reached behind him, his pianist fingers wiggling impatiently for Charlotte to pass him back the phone. She frowned but complied.

Thranduil put the phone to his ear. “If you do not comply with our wishes for privacy, Carl, then you may find that you will be viewing more of me than you wish to.”

Charlotte suppressed a giggle as an image of Thranduil doing a seductive striptease in front of the camera sprang to mind. Carl would, indeed, see much more of the Elvenking than he had anticipated. And if her guess was correct, Carl did not swing that way.

Thranduil ended the call, satisfied that his threat had been passed on and received, and tossed the phone back on the sofa.

Sensing her mirth at the situation, Thranduil swatted her on the bottom, which elicited a yelp of surprise from her.

“Now…where were we?” he intoned, his voice dropping an octave and going slightly husky at the promise of what was to come.

“I think you were planning on revealing just how kinky you elves really are.”

“What you call ‘kinky’, I call a mere act of foreplay,” he countered.

Charlotte gulped. _He was teasing…right?_ Thranduil’s version of foreplay was quite extensive and…passionate. If what he had been doing with her before was considered mild, then she didn’t know if she was going to survive the night…

Thranduil chuckled darkly at the way she tensed up. “Do I have you worried?”

“Yes!” she squeaked. Images of paddles, whips and other tools of torture suddenly flooded her brain. She was most definitely not into hardcore stuff like that!

“Good!” he growled, and this time there were no interruptions as he marched through the bedroom door, making sure to slam it shut in his wake.

Thranduil flung her onto the bed and before she could brace herself, the Elvenking was instantly upon her, his mouth hungrily devouring hers as he pressed her down onto the mattress.

Charlotte melted into the kiss, her apprehension fleeing in the wake of heated desire. She wrapped her legs around his waist and entangled her hands in his hair, effectively pulling him flush against her, which earned a growl of appreciation from him.

Her flesh heated to scorching levels as Thranduil kissed and nipped along her jawline, working his way with agonizing slowness down her neck. His hands curled around her wrists while he bit softly on the sensitive spot on her neck, using this distraction to pin her hands above her head.

Charlotte groaned but realized shortly after what he was doing, and she stiffened beneath him.

Thranduil paused in his ministrations and pulled back enough to gaze down at her with slight puzzlement at her reaction.

“You’re…you’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

Thranduil blinked once, her words sinking in, and then his features softened. He released his hold on her and placed his palm against her cheek, caressing the soft flesh.

“I would never hurt you, meleth nîn,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Charlotte still did not look reassured. Thranduil sat up, resting on his heels, and drew her towards him. He wrapped his arms protectively around her and laid a kiss atop her head.

“Trust me, little one. I would gain no enjoyment from inflicting pain on you. Believe me when I say that I have no desire to hurt you in any way, and I only wish to give you pleasure.”

Charlotte saw the truth as plain as day - both in his words and expression. Thranduil would never hurt her, regardless of the situation.

She closed the distance, seeking his lips, and they shared a slow and sensual kiss that left her feeling deliciously lightheaded and chased away all fears and doubt.

Charlotte pulled away and stared at him boldly as her hands explored the hard plains of his chest. She bunched the hem of his shirt in her hands and yanked up, determined to rid him of this nuisance that was obscuring his perfect form from her.

Thranduil smirked at her impatience. He delicately pushed her hands away and then gripped his shirt. Charlotte sat back on her heels, watching with undisguised hunger as he pulled the shirt over his head in a slow and erotic striptease, discarding the item to the floor without another thought.

She would never get used to the perfection that was purely Thranduil. His well-defined chest was smooth and unmarred; his muscles lean and his form lithe. Beneath the alabaster purity was coiled a power that was undeniable. It was hard to mistake Thranduil for just a pretty face – at first glance it was immediately blatant that he was dangerous in every possible way: lethal, deadly and seductively alluring. And he was all hers.

Charlotte leaned forward, running her hand over the smooth expanse, her fingertips trailing down to his belly and causing his stomach muscles to clench at the featherlight touch. She peered up at him through her lashes and saw darkening hunger mirroring his own features.

His lips crashed against her own, intent on devouring her. Somewhere between kisses, bites and caresses, their clothes were discarded in a whirlwind of haste and Charlotte now found herself being pushed back into the bed.

Thranduil hovered over her and gave her a meaningful look.

“I meant what I said earlier: I have every intention of tying you up.”

_Yes, please!_

Charlotte nodded once and watched as he scooted off the bed and picked up his shirt off the floor – and proceeded to shred it into strips. He was not possessing the great elven composure and patience right now and was choosing to rip his shirt to shreds than find some other forms of restraints.

“Make another one for a blindfold.”

Thranduil glanced up from his task, stealing the very air from her lungs. It was not him standing in his glorious nakedness that garnered this reaction, but rather the searing heat that smoldered in those ice blue eyes.

“You are full of surprises, _meleth n_ _î_ _n._ ”

“A girl’s gotta have fantasies.”

The corners of his mouth slowly curved up into that of a wolfish smile as he advanced towards her, his movements like that of a wild animal prowling and stalking its prey.

“Then I shall most certainly fulfill those fantasies, little one.”

_Double yes please!_

But all Charlotte could do was swallow hard as he proceeded to tie a strip of material around each wrist with expertise, and then attach each end to the iron headboard.

“I think that shall do,” he stated, stepping back to survey his handiwork with a critical eye.

Charlotte gulped, her pulse increasing as his hungry gaze slowly raked over her naked body, his heated expression unguarded. He finally met her eyes and then climbed on the bed with liquid grace. She resisted the urge to squirm as he crawled up her body, brushing his lips against her heated skin and biting and grazing his teeth on certain spots that he knew would drive her absolutely crazy.

She was a panting mess by the time his lips captured hers.

Thranduil pulled back and said, “Promise me that you will tell me to stop if I do anything that you are uncomfortable with.”

“Stop teasing, Thranduil,” she moaned.

He smirked and then lifted the strip of cloth, pulling it taut between his hands and showing her what he intended to do next. He laid it over her eyes and carefully tied it around her head, now plunging her vision into murkiness.

Her breathing quickened as she waited for what he was going to do next.

She jumped when she felt velvet lips brush her ear.

“The teasing has only begun, Charlotte.”

_Oh. Dear. God!_

Thranduil trailed a heated path along her skin, kissing and nipping, and most definitely in no rush to finish this. The way he was taking his time and appointing attention to each of her sensitive spots was almost plunging her over the edge of sanity.

He moved on to her breast and his mouth closed over her nipple, eliciting a moan of pleasure from Charlotte. His tongue swirled and flicked at the bud, teasing and coaxing her to a peak of covetousness. He bit down on her nipple, just enough to make pain mingle with pleasure, and then soothed the pain with his tongue before turning his attention to her other breast and lavishing the same amount of attention there.

Then he slowly and deliberately licked down towards her bellybutton, and finally her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he tasted her. He was getting so close to where she was aching for release, and her hips bucked, urging him to go where she most wanted him.

She felt the bed shift as Thranduil sat up, and it was with a sigh of relief when he finally parted her legs.

The sigh quickly turned in a groan of frustration when he proceeded to kiss and lick her calf, her knee and then her inner thigh, but stopped short at the curls between her legs. He shifted slightly and proceeded to do the same to her other leg. Her body was a quivering mess by the time he had reached her inner thigh, so close, yet so far from where she really wanted him.

“Thranduil, please,” she begged.

“What is it you want me to do?” he purred huskily.

“I…I want you.” _Was he really going to make her say it?!_ She felt her cheeks become inflamed with a deep blush.

“You want me to do what?” he pressed in a teasing tone. _The bastard was enjoying teasing her far too much!_

“Kiss me…there.”

There was a prolonged pause, and when he spoke, his voice sounded almost lazy with just a dash of disappointment.

“Is that all?” he asked, trailing a fingertip along her thigh. “I can do much more than just kiss you on your most intimate area…” He let the invitation hang in the air.

“Please,” she whimpered.

His finger continued to trace a lazy circle as he thought over her request.

“As my lady commands,” he finally said.

He settled comfortably between her legs, placing her legs over his shoulders. Then he parted her curls, revealing her fully to him in the most intimate way.

_Please, please, please!_ She internally sobbed.

Thranduil teasingly ran the flat of his tongue against her core, making her cry out at the intense sensation that coursed through her body, tingling every nerve with currents of pleasure and she had to restrain from writhing and bucking against him. Then he fully claimed her.

He gradually worked her to a peak, his tongue and fingers expertly cresting her to new heights, that she was now close to shattering from the orgasm that was building up. The room filled with the sounds of her pants and moans and the quiet hums of appreciation from the elf between her legs.

Just when she was about to come apart, Thranduil stopped abruptly.

_What the…?!_

“Wh…what?!”

She felt him smirk against her skin.

“Oh? Did you want me to continue?” he asked in a far too innocent voice.

“Yes!” _Crap! He wasn’t kidding about the teasing part._

“Depends…”

Her hips bucked impatiently, but his hands upon them firmly settled her in place, and she knew there was going to be bruises in the shape of his fingertips by the morning.

“On what?” she panted.

“You need to tell me another fantasy of yours.”

Charlotte stilled, but she was so desperate for release that she would have wantonly told him every darkest secret just so he would finish what he started.

“It’s not really anything kinky…or hardcore…” She squirmed, desperate for the release that only he could give her.

“Tell me,” he commanded softly, trailing a finger teasingly against her core and causing her to gasp at the renewed desire that shot through her.

“I’ve…I’ve always wanted to be taken up against a wall.” She blushed as though she had confessed a sordid secret to a priest. It was not the most outlandish fantasy, but it was one she had always wanted to try.

‘Hmm…” he hummed and then dragged his tongue against her, causing her to cry out. He nuzzled his nose against her curls. “I quite like the sound of that.”

Before she could respond, Thranduil resumed his previous ministrations until she shattered into a million pieces. Charlotte lay in a quivering mess of raw nerves in the aftermath, her breaths ragged and raw.

Slowly she regained her senses. She was vaguely aware of the bed shifting before the blindfold was unwound from her head.

Charlotte blinked in a daze as stars still danced in her vision, her body languid and content at finally having reached a blissed release.

Thranduil’s lips brushed against hers and she kissed him back, tasting herself on his lips. It was somewhat erotic, knowing that he had taken her in such an intimate manner.

She could feel the firm hardness of him pressing against her thigh, causing her desire to flare again in anticipation.

As they kissed, Thranduil made quick work of untying her wrists and her hands were instantly in his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as she yearned for more.

Thranduil shifted slightly as their tongues warred against each other, and she felt him pressing against her entrance. She groaned at the sensation and wiggled her hips, silently begging him for completion.

The shift in his demeanor was subtle, but there was no denying the growing impatience and urgency that now radiated from him as he, too, yearned for more.

His arms snaked under her and she gasped into his mouth as he lifted her up. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, painfully aware of how firmly and intimately he was pressed against her.

Thranduil climbed off the bed and shifted his hands so that he was now supporting her under her thighs. His gaze held such intensity that it was almost unbearable to witness. It felt as though he was mentally searching the darkest recesses of her mind in a way that only a lover with intimate knowledge of their partner could. It made her feel vulnerable.

Her back hit the wall with a soft _thud,_ but there was no pain associated with it. Thranduil, true to his word, was being careful not to hurt her. But right now, she did not want gentle.

She leaned forward and kissed him deeply before biting his bottom lip.

“Don’t hold back, Thranduil. I want you to take me hard and fast. Against this wall.”

She emphasized her point by digging her nails into his shoulder. Thranduil hissed, but when he met her gaze, it was heated with promise.

His fingers gripped her thighs more firmly and he shifted, positioning himself against her entrance. With a swift thrust he was fully sheathed in her, causing Charlotte to cry out at the sudden fullness; her cry quickly turned into a moan as pleasure coursed through her. Thranduil stilled with restraint, letting her body adjust to him. He pressed his forehead against her own, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. Then he pulled out and thrust back into her.

The pace was slow and deliberate at first, until Thranduil was satisfied that she had adjusted to him, and then his thrusts became harder and faster. Their moans and cries of pleasure mingled with each other, and Charlotte held on for dear life as waves of pleasure coursed through her. Soon she felt the delicious tightening that signaled she was nearing completion.

“Thranduil!” she cried out, dragging her nails along his neck.

Thranduil slammed his palm against the wall to brace himself, now supporting her weight with his other hand, and he captured her lips as his thrusts became more erratic.

Her orgasm exploded through her like a cataclysmic storm and she cried out in carnal pleasure, her body wracked with aftershocks.

Thranduil soon found his release, her name called like a prayer against her heated skin. He bowed his head, resting it against her neck as he regained his senses and his breathing evened out.

Charlotte finally opened her eyes, her heart filling with profound love for the Elvenking that she felt as though it would burst from the intensity of it. Her eyes grew heavy with fatigue, but she was unsure if her legs would be able to support her after all that. Thranduil must have come to the same conclusion, for he finally lifted his head, a look of deep contentedness settling over his luminous features.

He kissed her tenderly, pouring his love into the act, and then carried her to the bed, where they both fell into a deep slumber curled against each other.


	33. Chapter 33

A burning red and orange permeated the air in a hazy hue, obscuring the scenery surrounding her. Charlotte squinted, but the more she concentrated, the more the air became denser with the thick vapour.

Charlotte opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She frowned and tried again, but the same thing happened. She slowly turned full circle, but she was effectively enveloped in this strange, smoky fog and could not discern anything past the end of her nose. She tried to step forward, but now found her feet firmly planted in place. _This was not good…_

Her heart started racing as a sense of foreboding settled deep in her bones. Just as she was close to panicking, the fog suddenly parted, revealing a clearing in front of her.

But instead of feeling relieved, what she now saw frightened her even more.

The clearing was something out of a war zone, with burning and smoking debris scattered around. There was nothing discernable among the wreckage to make out what it had once been. Just jagged sheets of metal, twisted and bent into unrecognisable shapes, poking out of charred and smoldering planks of wood.

Charlotte swallowed, but instantly gagged as the taste of ash and soot filled her mouth. Her eyes started to burn as black smoke blew in her face, and she hacked and coughed, trying to clear her burning lungs. _She was going to suffocate if she didn’t find a way out of here soon…_

As though sensing her thoughts, the air suddenly cleared and Charlotte inhaled deeply, the clean and pure air soothing the burn in her chest. She wiped at her stinging eyes with the back of her hand and when she looked up, she let out a gasp of shock and stumbled back. For there, in front of her, now stood her parents.

They seemed unscathed by the burning carnage surrounding them, and they gazed at their daughter with equal looks of parental affection and love.

Fresh tears of sorrow stung her eyes and her heart constricted at the sight. Before she could think about it, Charlotte rushed forward, almost sighing in relief when she crashed into their awaiting arms, which wrapped around her in a warm embrace. They stood there for the longest while, contented to just be held by each other and bask in the love and joy of seeing each other again.

Charlotte finally pulled away enough to gaze at them. _Oh, how she missed them!_ Her joy slowly ebbed into that of guilt. Guilt that she was indirectly responsible for their deaths. _If she had never become involved with Eric, then they wouldn’t be dead…_

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, the tears now falling freely.

Her mother shook her head sadly and bought her slender hand up to cup her daughter’s cheek. She said nothing; her expression enough to relay that she did not blame Charlotte. Her father laid his hand upon her shoulder and gave her a small squeeze. He, too, shook his head, his solemn eyes boring into hers and silently urging her not to blame herself.

_But she did…_

Charlotte frowned, only now realising that they hadn’t uttered a single word during their whole exchange.

The wind changed subtly, yet it was enough to send a chill through her and she shivered.

Her parent’s expression changed to that of one of fear.

As the wind picked up, her mother and father glanced at each other fearfully before turning their attention back to Charlotte. They each grasped her hand in their own, their grips almost painfully tight. Her mother opened her mouth, but no sound came out as she mouthed something repeatedly. Charlotte’s brows knitted together. _Was her mother trying to tell her to run…?_ Her features showed the abject fear, as well as an urgency that Charlotte was failing to understand.

The wind was now almost a gusting whirlwind that swirled around them, kicking up ash and soot and making it impossible to see.

“Mom! Dad!” she hacked out, squinting her eyes. She tried to hold on to them for all her worth, but it was with an anguished cry that she felt them being ripped away from her. Charlotte screamed out her distress.

“Charlotte!”

She whipped her head around, but could not discern from where, or from whom, the sound had come from.

“Charlotte!”

Her eyes flew open and Charlotte drew in a ragged breath, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She glanced wildly around, realising she was back in the cabin.

“Charlotte! Get up now!” Thranduil’s urgent command sounded.

Charlotte bolted up in bed, instantly alert. There was no mistaking the urgency in his tone, and the sleepy haze quickly receded from her mind. She noted that Thranduil was already dressed, his twin swords strapped in place, and he was busy flinging his cloak over his shoulders as he approached the window. He was on high alert, the tension radiating from him in roiling waves as he peered through the shutters with keen eyes.

“What is it?” she asked, flinging back the covers and scrambling out of bed.

“I can hear two vehicles approaching off in the distance. It won’t be long before they are here.”

“It could be Carl,” she theorised as she hastily snatched up and dressed in the clothes discarded on the floor from last night.

“I don’t think so.”

Just then, the ringing from the lounge alerted that Carl was calling this very minute. Charlotte glanced at Thranduil, a sinking feeling settling deep in her gut. She raced to the lounge and answered the phone, putting it on speaker phone.

“Charlotte, the motion sensors just tripped, and surveillance shows that two cars are heading your way,” sounded Carl’s very concerned voice.

Fresh fear coursed through her veins and she shot Thranduil a worried look.

“You need to get out of there now!”

“Leave them to me,” Thranduil stated calmly. His features and stature morphed into that of the dangerous and stealthy warrior; not a hint of fear nor hesitation to be seen as his face hardened and his eyes glinted like steel.

“I’m on my way. Can you take care of them, Thranduil?”

Thranduil picked up the crossbow, steely determination mixing with a hint of anticipation. He was gearing up to fight and fight he would.

“That I shall.” His tone was dark and foreboding.

“Carl, how did they find us?” Charlotte asked.

“Eric must have tortured the information from Thomas. He and I were the only ones who knew of this location.” Carl let loose a string of curses. “Sit tight, Charlotte. I’m on my way.”

The phone went dead in her hand and Charlotte stared at it mutely. The dreaded hour had finally arrived, and now she would have to stand her ground. She took a deep breath and went to retrieve her gun from the duffel bag, making sure that it was fully loaded.

She turned around, but found her way blocked by Thranduil.

“I want you to remain in the bedroom. I will take care of them,” he stated, his tone calm, but firm.

Charlotte stared back at him. Thranduil had the advantage of thousands of years of training, not to mention a far more superior physiology than her, a mere human. He could melt into the shadows like a phantom, and he could stealthily hunt down the enemy without hindrance or detection. He would stand a much better chance of surviving this than her.

She nodded mutely, and the tension in his shoulders loosened somewhat, almost as though he had been preparing for her to protest.

“Lock the door and shoot anyone that tries to enter,” he ordered. He stared at her for a beat, as though he wanted to say something more, but swiftly turned on his heel and exited the cabin with an eerie silence that only he was capable of.

Charlotte didn’t waste time – she dashed into the bedroom and bolted the door behind her, the gun firmly clutched in her hand.

She stood in the middle of the dimly lit room and waited; her rapid breathing the only sound cutting through the stifling enclosure.

Then she heard it: cars approaching. She held her breath, straining hard to hear what was happening outside. She heard car doors open and shut, and the sound of muffled words - too low and far away for her to clearly make out what was being said.

Her palms became clammy and her heart was thudding painfully in her chest as the situation neared a climax. The waiting was unbearable, and her position vulnerable at best, and there really was no knowing what the outcome was going to be. That was the worst part – not knowing.

_God, please let Thranduil be alright,_ she mentally pleaded. Thranduil may be a great elvish warrior with extensive skills, but not even he would be able to survive a shot to the head. His immortality, unfortunately, had limitations.

Suddenly a cry echoed from outside and Charlotte whipped her head in the general direction, gulping as she tried in vein the calm herself. _No, that did not sound like Thranduil…_

She jumped as multiple gunshots rang through the air, making the outside world sound like a warzone. The shots mingled with more frantic shouts, followed by shrieks of pain. Then ominous silence.

_Please, please, please, let Thranduil be okay…_

Charlotte drew in a shaky breath and slowly turned her attention back to the door. She lifted her gun, aiming it at the wood. She sucked in deep, steadying breaths and concentrated her sights on the door handle. _Now was not the time to lose her nerve. It was either her or whoever barged through that door._

The seconds ticked by, slowly and painfully. Anxiousness, as well as adrenaline, was making her senses go on high alert, and she was now wound as tightly as a spring. Her hand was starting to cramp from how tightly she was gripping the gun in her hands, her finger twitching near the trigger.

Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door, breaking the suppressing silence, and Charlotte jumped like a startled cat. _It was a wonder she hadn’t pulled the trigger in her fright!_

_The bad guys wouldn’t knock…or would they…_

“Open up, Charlotte,” Thranduil sounded from the other side.

A whoosh of air escaped her lungs and she lowered the gun. She immediately went to the door and pulled back the deadbolt, flinging it open to the sight of the Elvenking. Thranduil barely had time to brace himself when Charlotte crashed into him, hugging him as though she hadn’t seen him in ages. The relief rolling off from her was palpable and Thranduil bought his free arm around her, letting her have this brief moment of consolation.

“Are you alright? Did you get hurt?” she asked, pulling back enough to sweep her gaze over him and search for any signs of injury.

He gave her a condescending look in response. Thranduil, right now, was emulating the infamous waspish Elvenking who could bring a person down with a single cutting remark, or a disapproving glare. And he was not holding back from showing that he was affronted that she would even suggest that some mere humans had managed to harm him.

“Right. Stupid question,” she stated. “So how many of them were there? It sounded like quite the warzone out there.”

“Four in all. Heavily armed, but their general aim left much to be desired,” he replied arrogantly and released his hold on her. The crossbow was still clutched in his other hand and missing a few arrows, indicating how those men had met their demise.

He snatched up her hand and swiftly drew her out the room. Once in the lounge, he and went to retrieve her jacket hanging on the coat rack and handed it to her.

Charlotte shrugged it on, keeping her burning questions to herself for now, and tucked the gun into the pocket of her jacket.

“I overheard them talking. Eric sent them here to finish us off.” Thranduil gave her a meaningful look. “I think it’s best for us to disappear into the wilderness.”

Charlotte agreed, but paused midway through zipping up her jacket, her brows furrowing. _It didn’t make sense. Why would Eric send in people to kill her and Thranduil when he knew the truth about who Thranduil really was? Did he not realise it was folly to attempt such a thing? Unless…_

“Shit!” she cursed and ran over to the phone on the couch. “He used them as a diversion.”

Thranduil’s posture tensed, his crystalline blue eyes widening fractionally as he realised that this was very much the case.

Charlotte dialled Carl’s number, watching as Thranduil swooped to the window and peered out, his gaze sharp and focused.

Carl answered on the second ring, sounding slightly out of breath. Charlotte gave him a quick run down of what had happened and about her recent revelation.

Carl cursed loud and hard.

“Can you get out of there?” he asked.

“No, the cars are blocking us in. Thranduil wants us to head into the woods.”

“Wise boy. Find a safe place there and hide until I can get to you with reinforcements.” Carl ended the call.

“Eric’s here,” Thranduil interrupted, his tone like brittle ice. He whirled away from the window, his cloak flaring around him, and faced Charlotte. His features were hard and cold like the frozen surface of a lake during the coldest day of winter, but his eyes simmered with a quiet fury; an anger that was more formidable than any loud outbursts.

Charlotte rushed to the window and peered out in time to see the black SUV coming down the driveway and park behind the other two cars. She watched with bated breath as Eric opened the door and climbed out, standing tall and menacing like a monster from her nightmares. He peered at the cabin, his expression unreadable, and then went around to the trunk. Charlotte craned her neck, but she couldn’t see what he was retrieving from there.

When he came back into her view, her heart dropped like a ball of lead right into the pit of her stomach.

She whirled around and grabbed Thranduil’s hand.

“He has a rocket launcher!” she screeched as she started to race towards the back door, Thranduil following closely behind.

They burst through the door. Their feet had barely left the porch when the house exploded behind them, sending both her and Thranduil flying through the air.

She landed hard on the ground, the snow offering very little protection against the fall, and lay there in a stunned heap as darkness threatened to consume her. Each breath was a struggle. She was fighting to remain conscious but didn’t know for how long she could hold on.

Little by little, her senses started awakening, and she now wished they had remained dormant. Her ears were ringing painfully, and her body was wracked in agony. The only thing that kept her from passing out was the biting cold snow on which she lay.

_Get up, Charlotte! Get up now!_ Her mind screamed, but her body was unwilling to comply. She knew simple movements would be torture, but they could not remain here, either.

She managed to force herself to roll over onto her back, biting her tongue to hold back the cry of pain that threatened to burst from her lips.

_Thranduil! Where is he? Is he alive?_

This thought was enough to keep her focused and prevent her from giving up.

She tilted her head to the side, gritting her teeth against the sharp pain this little movement caused her, and she spotted him laying on the ground not too far from her. He wasn’t moving and a chilling fear pierced her. Thranduil had been right behind her when the house had exploded, and he would have received the worst of the blast. If what she was feeling now was any indication, then he was in very rough shape.

_Please don’t let him be dead…_

Thranduil stirred, much to her relief. But she watched with growing panic as he struggled to push himself up, and then collapsed into the snow again. _This was not good…_

A shadow suddenly passed over her and Charlotte blinked in a vain attempt to focus on it. It seemed that her hearing and sight had been dulled and impaired from the impact, and right now she was acutely aware that she was helpless. If she were attacked at this very moment, she would be unable to defend herself. This thought was unsettling, even frightening, though this whole situation was terrifying at best.

The shadow came into sharp focus and she now stared up at Eric with growing horror. But he was not looking at her, even though he stood right beside her. His attention was focused solely on Thranduil.

She opened her mouth to scream or shout out a warning to Thranduil, but all that came out was a hoarse and choked gargle.

Eric glanced down at her with those cold, soulless eyes. There was neither pity, warmth nor mercy reflecting in those green orbs. Just the face of a monster.

He stared at her for a few moments and then seemed to come to a decision. He made a show of pulling his gun from his holster and slowly released the safety, all the while staring straight at her.

Charlotte stared back at him with wide-eyed fear. _This is it. He’s going to kill me now…_

Her fear quickly became crippling in intensity when Eric swiftly turned on his heel and strode from her, and Charlotte realised that he was heading straight for Thranduil!

_No! No! No! Please, no!_ she silently begged.

Eric loomed over Thranduil, now staring down at the Elvenking with distaste written all over his features. He studied the dazed elf that lay at his feet in a calculating manner, as though mentally planning his next course of action. Then he drew back his leg and kicked Thranduil hard in the side, sending him rolling onto his back.

A moan of pain escaped the Elvenking’s lips as pain lanced through him, and he struggled to regain his senses. His mind was a concoction of agony and disorientation.

Another kick sent Thranduil rolling over again. He let out a groan, now lying on his stomach and vaguely aware that Eric was approaching him again. He knew he had to gather every ounce of strength and act soon or else he would meet his fate at this man’s hands.

Eric drew back his leg again kicked out. But before his booted foot could connect with the Elvenking, Thranduil’s arm raised in a lightning fast reflex and he grabbed the other man’s ankle, jerking swiftly and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Thranduil struggled up, his movements sluggish from pain from the blast. He was dizzy from the impact, the shrill ringing in his ears almost crippling him. But he would not go down without a fight, and he would see this to the bitter end.

He watched as Eric scrambled to his feet, his face red and blotchy from anger as he now faced the ethereal elf. Thranduil reached for his swords but stilled when Eric instantly had his gun drawn and trained on him. Thranduil was fast, but even he knew that he could not move swiftly enough to escape the bullet that was clearly meant for him.

“I think it’s time we end this,” Eric growled.

Thranduil’s face was that of an unreadable mask; his gaze sharp and focused as he stared back at the human, trying to discern a point of weakness that he could use to his advantage. His mind was racing as he sought an appropriate tactic.

So focused was his attention on Eric that he did not notice what was happening until it was too late.

Charlotte rammed into Eric and tackled him to the ground, the both of them rolling around in a tangled heap.

It all happened so fast. Just as Thranduil was about to race forward, a gunshot rang through the air, making him stutter to a standstill.

Time seemed to come to a shuddering halt.

Then Eric scrabbled to his feet and stepped back, breathing heavily and a wild look on his face.

_No!_ His mind did not want to comprehend what had just happened.

Thranduil’s eyes flickered down to the prone form of his beloved lying in the virgin-white snow, which was staining bright red as Charlotte’s blood pooled beneath her.

Thranduil snapped out of his trance and was instantly at her side, Eric completely forgotten as terror clawed at his heart. He rolled her over onto her back with trembling hands, making sure to handle her with as much care as he could. He noted that her skin was already becoming clammy and cold as she gasped and wheezed for air beneath him. He realised with growing anguish that her eyes were half-lidded and the light that was purely Charlotte was starting to dim.

Thranduil carefully scooped her in his arms, cradling her like a child. He raised his shaking hand and brushed the hair from her face.

“Charlotte, look at me,” he pleaded in earnest.

She blinked, his voice drawing her to the present.

“Thranduil…”

“I’m here, _meleth n_ _î_ _n_.” He clutched at her hand, desperately willing her to stay with him.

Her eyes focused on him, though he could see that it was a struggle. She raised a shaky hand and placed a clammy palm against his cheek.

“I’m am so grateful you came into my life,” she whispered.

“As am I.” It was the truth. For everything that had happened, he would not have traded a single second of it. She had become his world…and now his world was being cruelly ripped from him.

“Promise me…” she swallowed past the pain and focused on him once more. “Promise me that you will not fade.”

Thranduil blinked back the tears. _So, she had known about fading and what her death would do to him._

“Do not force me to make a promise I cannot keep.” This time his voice cracked from the strain of emotions.

She closed her eyes, her hand dropping from his face and her breaths now coming out in a painful sounding rattle. It was the sound of dying; a sound he was all to familiar with.

_No! Please, Charlotte, don’t leave me…_

“Charlotte, please stay with me,” he urged as his grief threatened to overwhelm him. “Please don’t leave me.”

She opened her eyes slowly and stared up at him.

“ _Gi melin, meleth n_ _î_ _n,”_ she breathed out in reverence; her words of love being her words of good-bye.

His vision blurred as he watched her close her eyes for the last time, never to open again and gaze at him with warmth and love, nor shine with laughter and joy.

Something inside of him broke into a million shards; his world disintegrating into a torturous symphony of agony.

His slowly lifted his gaze, which unfortunately landed on Eric and the gun pointed at him. At that moment he didn’t care that Eric was about to kill him. Blinding fury flashed through him. _He was going to make that cretin pay for what he had done!_

Suddenly there was a mighty bellow from behind Eric, and the man turned in time to see an angry moose charging at him. Eric did not have time to point the gun at Tallagor when the moose rammed into him, sending him flying through the air. Eric landed near Thranduil with a satisfying groan of pain.

Tallagor pawed at the ground, reading for another charge, but halted as Thranduil carefully laid Charlotte down on the ground and stood up.

There was no life nor light left in him, his very will to live having been snuffed out along with Charlotte. But he was determined to finish this once and for all. The world needed to be rid of Eric.

Eric struggled to his feet and slowly turned around. His eyes widened as he realised his gun had been lost somewhere in the snow and he was now at the mercy of Thranduil. And this time there was no Charlotte to stop him. Eric opened his mouth, probably to plead, or beg, but it was too late for that.

Thranduil drew his sword in a swift motion and slashed out, watching with detachment as Eric’s head went rolling in the snow, his body crumpling to the ground shortly after.

_It was done._

Thranduil let his sword drop to the ground and made his way back to Charlotte’s side, dropping to his knees. He took her rapidly cooling hand in his own and laid a soft kiss on it, tears pooling his eyes anew as his heart crumbled with his crippling grief. He hung his head, giving himself over to it.

The grief was rapidly building up into a tidal wave that would consume his very being, but before the tears could fall, he felt the air constrict around him. It was a familiar sensation; one he had only felt once before.

He was being pulled back home. And he was helpless to stop it.

In the distance he could hear Carl calling out, but by the time the man reached the clearing, Thranduil was gone.


	34. Chapter 34

The air constricting around him was almost suffocating, slowly squeezing the very air from his lungs. His body rebelled at the sensation, yet he was unable to break free from this invisible restraint.

_He had to get back to Charlotte…_

As suddenly as it had taken hold of him, the sensation vanished, along with the haunting silence that had enveloped him.

His senses came alive all at once, his hearing flooding with the sound of war that now raged around him. Cries of death, screams of pain, the clanging of metal on metal – it all pummeled him at once. Coupled with the metallic smell of blood, gore and death that permeated the air, there was no mistaking where he was.

_He had been returned, back to the exact moment from whence he had been taken, no time having passed at all…_

His heart gave a painful twist.

_Charlotte…she was gone…_

Thranduil closed his eyes in pain. _It would be so easy to give in to his grief and let death claim him now…_

The heavy treads of orcs surrounding him broke him from his inner turmoil. Thranduil slowly raised his head, his sight blurred by unshed tears.

At the sight of the foul creatures, something within him snapped, and what filled him now was blinding fury. It was an anger that stemmed from losing the woman who had claimed his heart and knowing there was nothing he could do. Not then, not now. There was no bringing her back from death.

His sights focused on the beasts surrounding him, snarling and snapping as they advanced.

_He had found an outlet for his anger…_

With swift and precise movements, Thranduil slashed out, his swords biting through foul orc flesh. He became lost in the flawless dance of death as he laid waste to the filth. No sooner had one dropped to the ground than his attention swiftly turned to the next, his movements now a blur of pent up fury that stemmed from his anguish.

Soon the bodies of the orcs littered the ground, and still it wasn’t enough. He wanted to make them feel what he was experiencing right now: crippling agony that threatened to tear his very being to shreds.

He soon got his wish. The enemy started swarming the city of Dale with their infestation, and he narrowed his concentration on fighting orc after orc, the burn in his muscles a welcome distraction from what plagued his heart and mind.

The battle waged with ferocity, countless bodies of humans, elves and orcs blanketing the ground in tangled heaps, their blood seeping into the stones and turning grey to red. But he saw none of it. He was mindlessly bent on causing as much destruction to the plague that threatened to overrun them. He knew that if he stopped for but one moment, his grief would consume him. Unfortunately, he had forged an alliance with Bard, and he had no choice but to see this through to the bitter end.

_When this was all over, though, he would seek out solitude to mourn Charlotte’s death, and soon fade from his torment…_

The passage of time had little to no bearing as he fought bitterly, but after the last orc surrounding him was slain, he became acutely aware that this section of the city had been cleared, and there was now a brief moment’s reprieve.

Thranduil straightened and slowly surveyed his surroundings.

_He needed to keep move, keep fighting…else his grief would consume him._

A bitter thought came to him, like a whisper on the night: _maybe it had been a good thing that he had withheld from bonding with Charlotte_. If what he was experiencing right now was any indication, then the loss of Charlotte - especially after forging a bond with her - would have reduced him to ashes in the wind.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to move. If he did not, he was sure that he would lose the will to continue.

_Promise me you will not fade…_

He blinked back his tears at Charlotte’s dying words. _Fade he would…but not now_. He had to hold on a bit longer until the battle was won.

His gazed about, almost in a lost daze, until his eyes fell upon the faces of his fallen subjects scattered at his feet. He halted.

It was no longer their faces that he beheld. Instead, he now saw Charlotte’s face, sallow and grey as death snuffed out her inner light, reflected in each of their features. His breath caught in his throat, his heart twisting tightly in his chest.

_Her death would always haunt him._

The swift treads of Feren approaching forced him back to the present - and back to reality. He was in the middle of a fierce battle, and now he, King of the Woodland Realm, had to think about the well-being of his subjects. He had little to no choice but to cast aside all emotions and act as their King.

Coming to a decision, he gave the order to Feren, “Recall your company.” His tone sounded disembodied to his ears.

Feren complied and soon his horn blared through the air, giving the signal for the elves to retreat and return to their King’s side.

No sooner had the call been given and some of his army started converging around him, Gandalf rushed towards him as fast as his aged form would allow.

“My Lord!” he huffed in his gravelly voice. Gandalf clutched his staff in his gnarled hand as he continued in a harried tone, “Dispatch this force to Ravenhill. The dwarves are about to be overrun.” Gandalf paused, catching his breath. “Thorin must be warned.”

Thranduil stared back at the wizard with stony silence. _Did Mithrandir really expect him to send his kindred to be slaughtered? Had not enough precious blood been spilled this day?_

His anger boiled forth and he now focused his ire upon Gandalf.

“By all means - warn him.” Thranduil replied condescendingly as he pushed past him. “I have spent enough elvish blood in defense of this accursed land.”

_I have lost too much…_

As he strode away, his voice wavered with emotion. “No more!”

He barely registered the wizard calling after him. He had to leave this place. Her memory was everywhere; her death reflected on every face that lay motionless on the ground. He had to escape before his emotions overwhelmed him and he succumbed to his grief. Now!

As he rounded a corner, an orc lunged at him, but he swiftly felled the creature without a backward glance. _Nothing was going to stand in his way._

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Tauriel blocking his escape. She stood tall with a certain resolve radiating from her.

“You will go no further!” she commanded with an air of authority. Her voice wavered slightly as she continued. “You will not turn away. Not this time.”

Thranduil glared at her with all the resentment he was feeling at this very moment. The insolent elleth was standing on very dangerous ground as she proceeded to block his way, and he didn’t know how much longer her could hold onto his fast fading composure.

“Get out of my way!” he snarled, his temper ready to burst forth. _He did not have time, nor patience, for this._

“The dwarves will be slaughtered!” she stated, her brilliant green eyes shimmering.

_She thinks she loves the dwarf?! She knows nothing of love…_

Thranduil had had enough, and a cruelness overtook him; he was going to make her feel but an ounce of what he was feeling.

“Yes,” he sneered, “they will die.”

He watched with grim satisfaction as his words hit their mark like a knife, her composure quickly crumbling. _Good,_ he thought maliciously as he stalked towards her.

“Today. Tomorrow. Once year hence, a hundred years from now. What does it matter?” He paused, fighting the wave of agony that threatened to drown him. This was the fate he would have had to come to terms with if Charlotte had lived long enough to age. _But she would never age now. She was now lost to him. Forever._

“They are mortal,” he concluded, clenching his fists to his side at the injustice of it all.

_Mortal and doomed to die a mortal death._

Tauriel’s eyes flashed and she instantly had her bow and arrow pointed at him. Thranduil paused, surprised out of his dark thoughts. But that surprise was quickly washed away by fury.

“You think your life is worth more than theirs, when there is no love in it?” she ground out. “There is no love in you!”

Thranduil froze in place, his blood running cold and then hot at her accusations. _How dare she judge him when she had not an inkling of what he had just gone through! What he was still going through!_

He deceptively cast his gaze aside and then with lightning fast reflexes, he slashed out with his sword and slew her bow in half. Before she could blink, he had the tip of his sword pointed at her throat. Tauriel stared back at him with eyes wide with shock.

“What do you know of love? Nothing!” he spat. _She had not experienced the profound love that he had shared with Charlotte. She would never bask in the pure light that only true love could reflect_. “What you feel for that dwarf is not real.” He watched as a lone tear trickled down her cheek. “You think it is love? Are you ready to die for it?”

_Just as Charlotte had willingly died for him…She had truly loved him and now he would never experience that love again._

He was vaguely aware that he was being destructive and callous in both his words and actions, but he was too wrapped up in his grief to really care. He just wanted all of this to be over with.

Suddenly another sword fell upon his and Thranduil slowly turned his gaze to meet the anger-filled features of his son, Legolas.

“If you harm her, you will have to kill me,” he stated with heated conviction.

Thranduil stared back at him, his son whom he had not seen in what felt like forever, and all words fled him as he came to a disconcerting revelation: _he was about to lose his son as well_. Suddenly the memory of the movies flashed before his very eyes and he realised he was going to have to do the most difficult thing he had ever done in his life: he was going to have to let his son go.

There was now no choice but to let this play out the way it was meant to in order for future events to be fulfilled - even if it meant that his whole world would shatter anew.

Utter desolation enveloped him as Legolas walked away with Tauriel, and it took every ounce of willpower not to go after him.

He took a shuddering breath.

_How much more would he have to go through? How much more would he have to lose? Had he not suffered enough?_

“My Lord?” came Feren’s soft voice from behind him.

_You gave your allegiance, and you have to honor it, regardless of what you are feeling right now…You are King and you do not have the luxury of giving in to your sorrow. Not now._

Thranduil straightened and composed himself with great difficulty. He turned to face his guard and stated. “We see this to the end.”

 

ooOoo

 

The battle seemed to wage on for an eternity, but with the death of Azog at the hands of Thorin Oakenshield the remaining enemy fled, chased down and slain by Dain’s army. There would be no survivors on the enemies’ side by nightfall.

Thranduil gave out the order for their dead to be gathered and given a proper elvish funeral. Their lives would be honored and remembered, their sacrifice not in vain. And then, in the morn, they would head back home to Greenwood.

_Home…could he even call it that anymore? His heart now belonged elsewhere._

No, his kin would return home. He had another matter to attend to first, namely demanding and audience with Lady Galadriel. _She owed him a very good explanation for putting him through this torment._

But, presently, there was a matter more pressing that he had to take care of first.

He meandered through the winding halls of the crumbling Ravenhill in search of Legolas, his gaze flittering over the bodies of orcs that lay scattered around.

He stopped as he heard the approach of his son and shortly after Legolas rounded the corner, his features plainly showing his despondency. But when he met his father’s gaze, there was none of the anger from before there, and this gave Thranduil hope that their relationship could be mended. He could not let his son depart on bad terms.

Legolas, who was usually so confident, now seemed uncertain, as though he was warring with an internal struggle.

“I…cannot go back.”

Thranduil had known this moment was coming, but it did not make it hurt any less.

“Where will you go?” Thranduil asked, recalling word for word how this scene would play out.

Legolas stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

“I do not know.”

Thranduil knew he could not force his son to stay, and he would not. Legolas had a legacy to fulfill and he, Thranduil, would probably not survive long enough to witness it. But he could give him this one piece of information that he had gleaned from the movies and set him on the right path. Legolas was meant for great things, and in order to do that he first needed to find the future King.

“Go North,” Thranduil said. He watched as Legolas turned to face him fully, his eyes showing slight puzzlement that his father was not putting up more of a resistance. “Find the Dunedain. There is a young ranger amongst them – you should meet him.”

Legolas remained silent but was clearly listening.

Thranduil continued. “His father, Arathorn, was a good man. His son might grow to be a great one.”

He let those words hang in the air. It was clear he was no longer referring to Aragorn. Legolas would accomplish many great deeds, his story living on for centuries.

Legolas glanced away, giving a nod. “What is his name?”

Thranduil paused. “He is known in the Wild as Strider. His true name…you must discover for yourself.”

Legolas looked at his father, truly looked at him, and frowned in puzzlement at what he discerned. Thranduil was known to be closed off with his emotions, his temper being the exception. But now there was a certain pain reflected on his features that had not been there before. Legolas finally came to a decision and nodded, turning to walk away.

“Legolas,” Thranduil called after him. He would not see his son for quite a while, many not ever again. Thranduil’s path would diverge in another direction altogether and he could not leave their final parting like this.

Legolas paused and stood with his back turned to Thranduil, waiting for his parting remark.

Thranduil breathed in deeply through his nose. Legolas needed to hear these words. “Your mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life.”

Legolas’ posture changed subtly, and as he turned to give the elvish farewell of curling his hand over his heart, Thranduil let the truth show plainly on his face as he extended the same farewell.

_As do I…More than you’ll ever know._

Bowing his head, he felt his heart could not break any more than it already had as Legolas left.

He granted himself a moment of quiet grief before steeling himself _. He now had to deal with Galadriel. He could not afford to break now._

As he exited Ravenhill, he paused at the sight of Tauriel slumped by Kili’s side, clearly mourning. It was truly heartbreaking to witness, and he could feel her anguish pouring from her very fëa. He knew in his heart that Tauriel, too, would choose to fade instead of living with this crippling pain.

“They want to bury him,” she said hoarsely, not bothering to lift her gaze to acknowledge him.

“Yes,” he finally replied. _That was the custom of the dwarves._ He had not the strength to offer up any other words.

Tauriel finally looked up at him, her face the very picture of heartbreak. “If this is love, I do not want it.”

Thranduil blinked at her words, for they were mirroring his exact thoughts. _To open one’s self to love also meant opening one’s self to unbearable pain._

“Take it from me. Please” she pleaded, fresh tears falling from her eyes.

Thranduil could only stare at her. There was nothing he could do to help her, just as there was nothing that would ease his torment.

Tauriel closed her eyes tightly and asked, her voice cracking as she held on tightly to Kili’s gloved hand, and her tears falling freely. “Why does it hurt so much?”

“Because it was real,” Thranduil said softly, his own tears now threatening to fall. _It had been real. It had been beautifully, and devastatingly, real._

Tauriel looked up at him as his words of truth sunk in. Her brows furrowed slightly as she witnessed her own grief mirrored in his features, and it must have given her some assurance that they were not just empty words of consolation.

Thranduil watched as she placed a kiss on Kili’s lips, the tender and heartbreaking moment almost unbearable to witness.

He turned to leave, his shoulders hunched with the burden that weighed heavy on them, but he knew he could not leave her like this.

“You may return to the Woodland Realm, if you so wish, Tauriel.”

Tauriel remained unmoveable, her dejected gaze fixed firmly on Kili. Finally, she looked up at him.

“I think that…my path shall be the same as yours.” Her meaning was plain. They both knew that neither would survive their grief.

Thranduil gave a nod. He would respect her choice, just as she would respect his.

He turned on his heel before he could succumb to the building wave threatening to consume him in suffering.

_It was time to seek an audience with the Lady of the Light_.


	35. Chapter 35

Thranduil rode hard and fast on the speckled grey horse that he had procured for the journey. His hair and cloak billowed behind him, stark white contrasting with charcoal grey, and he kept his gaze forward with fierce intensity, his eyes narrowed, and his features set in hard lines. Feren and a handful of guards followed close behind, struggling to keep pace with the hellbent Elvenking. Thranduil, right now, was single-mindedly focused on reaching his destination, and he only grudgingly allowed a few hours rest now and then as they navigated the lands.

If they continued at the harrowing pace he had set, they would reach the Golden Wood in seven days instead of the estimated ten. And Thranduil was determined to reach Lothlorien as soon as possible; he was on a mission and there was no stopping him.

With each sunrise and sunset, his sorrow clawed mercilessly at his heart, digging and burrowing deeper and deeper with each passing hour. It was a great struggle to keep a tight hold on his composure and not break down as his grief overwhelmed him like the crushing tide.

Feren must have sensed this alarming shift within his King, but he wisely kept all questions and thoughts to himself, merely nodding when Thranduil issued him a command. But Thranduil could sense his keen eyes trained on him, assessing and trying to figure out what had overcome his King to bring about such a troubling mood. But Thranduil would not be forthcoming with answers, and Feren would never ask – one of the reasons why he had chosen the ellon to accompany him.

They followed along the River Anduin, the swift currents causing a clamorous roar as they rode alongside it. Thranduil scanned the treeline, knowing from past experience that there were marchwardens stationed close by; always watching and always guarding their sacred land. They would offer safe passage across the torrential river that was currently sending a fine, misty spray across his face - but he had yet to catch sight of them.

His agitation grew – _they should have made their appearance known by now_! Thranduil had no choice but to continue and soon they happened upon a section of the river that ran calmer.

Thranduil halted, suddenly sensing that they were being watched. _About time!_ He tilted his chin up, remaining stonily silent as he waited for them to show themselves.

He didn’t have to wait long before a marchwarden materialised from the trees that grew thick and lush on the opposite bank. He was accompanied by another, both carrying a small boat between them with ease.

Thranduil watched as the one elf climbed into the boat and paddled towards him, standing tall and straight. As he neared, Thranduil was surprised to note that it was Haldir - usually the ellon patrolled the northern borders. For him to come and meet the Elvenking was indeed unusual. But he was relieved to see him, for Haldir carried himself in a quiet and guarded manner; his reserved natured would prove to be a balm to his battered fëa, as Thranduil knew Haldir was one of few who would be able to discreetly steer him from drowning in his emotions.

Haldir docked the boat and climbed out with swift grace. He stood before Thranduil, swathed in his grey cloak that could blend him easily into his surroundings. He had his hood down, his long and sleek golden hair falling over his shoulders, and he regarded Thranduil with cool blue eyes.

“King Thranduil,” he greeted in his soft, melodious voice, bowing his head respectfully and curling his hand over his heart. Haldir straightened and added, “My Lady sent me in preparation for your arrival.”

“Did she now,” Thranduil mused bitterly. He was not very happy with Galadriel right now, and he didn’t bother to hide his irritation.

Thranduil scanned the opposite riverbank. All that separated him from the inevitable confrontation with the Lady of Light was a gushing river that was near impossible to cross without assistance.

He turned his attention back to Haldir, who was observing him quietly as he patiently waited for the King’s choice.

“Then by all means, lead the way.” Thranduil could not help the testiness that seeped into his tone. He had travelled too far and his patience (or lack of it) would not allow him to wait any longer.

Haldir seemed indifferent and unaffected by Thranduil’s waspish mood and gave a nod of assent before turning and climbing back into the boat.

If Thranduil wasn’t feeling so foul-tempered, he would have paused to marvel at the fine and beautiful craftsmanship of the elvish vessel as it rested upon the rippling surface of the dark water. Instead, he turned his attention to Feren, who had maintained a respectable distance behind him.

“You may return home. I go alone from here.”

Feren frowned, clearly not pleased with this decision. His King was obviously in great distress, even though he diligently fought to hide it from them, but Feren could sense it. Such grief was not an easy thing to hide, and it did not settle well with him to leave Thranduil’s side. He opened his mouth to protest.

“Please,” Thranduil interjected, his voice having dipped to a soft, and disguised, plea.

Feren glimpsed the desolation shimmering deep in Thranduil’s crystalline blue eyes, and it did little to reassure him. But his King had given him a command and he had to obey it, regardless of whether he liked it or not.

He bowed his head. “Yes, my King.”

Thranduil dismounted his horse and climbed into the boat, not bothering to glance back as Haldir pushed the boat into the water and steered them across the waters. If he had, he would have seen that Feren lingered, watching with unease as Thranduil and his guide reached the opposite side. Once the Elvenking vanished out of sight into the trees, Feren turned his horse away, despondency etched on his face, and he and the small company of guards started their journey back to Greenwood.

 

ooOoo

 

The trek to Caras Galadhon was lengthy at best and extended well over a day’s march. Very little conversation ensued between Thranduil and Haldir, for he had not the energy. This all-consuming anguish was slowly drowning him, and every breath, every thought, was a struggle. _But he had to keep going. Just a little longer._

Just when he thought he would become lost in his turmoil, Haldir with distract him, either by offering him his waterskin, or pointing out something of interest in the distance. In one instance, he let out a melodious whistle, and soon the woods filled with the returning song of the birds high above. Thranduil realised that Haldir was guiding him out of his torrential thoughts through quiet tact, though he had not the strength to appreciate the effort.  

They finally reached the summit and Thranduil’s eyes were drawn to the host of Mallorn trees that stood grand and tall, spectacular both in beauty as well as stature, and stretched far and wide. It truly was a magnificent sight to behold, and as he glanced over at Haldir, he noted the proud look that radiated from the other elf.

They made their way into the city of Caras Galadhon, where intricately carved staircases wound around trees and led to the dwellings of the elvish inhabitants. Floating lanterns cast an ethereal glow all around, giving the city an enchanted feel.

Soon they arrived at the largest and grandest tree of all, which was situated in the middle of the city. Winding stairs curled up and around the ancient trunk, the steps seemingly never-ending as they reached skywards.

_This was it. Soon he would have the confrontation he so desired. All he had to do was take the first step._

Thranduil breathed in deeply through his nose and glanced at Haldir, who was resolutely staring ahead, but there was no doubt that he was patiently waiting for Thranduil to make the first move. Thranduil stepped forward and started the long climb, Haldir following behind. With each step, Thranduil could feel his temper building within him, his anger pushing its way to the forefront until it was all that consumed his mind.

Finally, they reached the top of the grand platform. Thranduil lifted his gaze, his sharp gaze seeking her out.

_There she was!_

Lady Galadriel stood atop the dais in all her golden splendor: from her soft golden waves that flowed down her back, to the inner light that radiated brightly from her very essence. She wore a pure white gown that trailed out behind her in a silky train, and as she stared back at him with all-knowing eyes, a small and soft smile curved her lips.

Fury flashed through Thranduil this. _How dare she smile upon him when she had caused him unbearable pain!_

Galadriel’s sights settled on Haldir, who stood beside Thranduil, and she issued a soft command. Haldir bowed his head and exited as quietly as he had arrived, leaving Thranduil and the Lady of Light alone and facing each other; one with serenity painting her features and the other with undisguised ire.

“Greetings, King Thranduil.”

“Lady Galadriel,” he greeted back stiffly. _Oh, how he longed to let lose his temper upon her!_

Galadriel tilted her head to the side, studying him, or more likely assessing him.

“You have changed much, Thranduil,” she mused.

“Enough with the pleasantries, Galadriel,” he snapped. “You know full well why I am here.”

Galadriel merely smiled her enigmatic smile in the face of his wrath.

“You owe me an explanation,” he growled darkly. He remained unmoving, but there was no denying the brewing storm that threatened to burst forth from him.

Galadriel glided down the steps and made her way towards him with light-footed grace. As she came to stand in front of him, there was not a hint of fear showing in her cornflower blue eyes.

“Tell me, Thranduil, what have you learned?”

“If you think I am here to discuss lessons learned, then you are very much mistaken!” he shouted, his thunderous tone echoing around the room.

Galadriel merely held his gaze with cool and collected calm. “But wasn’t that the whole point of your venture to Charlotte’s world? To learn a lesson?” She arched a delicate brow as she asked her question.

“It had nothing to do with a lesson, and you know that!” he roared, flinging his arm wide to emphasise his point, and his face contorting with rage.

Galadriel stared back at him, unaffected, and Thranduil watched with consternation as she deliberately turned her back on him and stepped away.

“What about empathy?” she asked.

Thranduil blinked, momentarily dismayed at this change of course. “What?”

Galadriel turned around to face him, her lips quirked into a smile. She clasped her hands in front of her and stared to circle him.

“Did you not show empathy towards Tauriel as she grieved the death of Kili.”

Thranduil frowned. _What did that have to do with anything?_

“Would you have shown Tauriel the same amount of empathy if you had not lost Charlotte?” Galadriel pressed.

Thranduil swallowed down the lump at the mention of her name. “No,” he finally admitted.

Galadriel continued. “Did you not also learn mercy?”

Thranduil stilled. _His act of mercy towards Eric had only been because of Charlotte_.

“You also let Legolas go and travel the path he was meant to.”

“Only because I knew that it needed to be done in order for him to fulfill certain future events,” Thranduil whispered.

“And if you had not gleaned this knowledge by what Charlotte had shown you, would you have done so?”

Thranduil felt frozen in place. “Probably not.”

Galadriel continued to circle him, but he was no longer focused on her. His mind was a deluge of memories; beautiful moments he had shared with Charlotte, perfect in their imperfection, and the things she had inadvertently taught him.

And she had taught him so much.

The memory of their snowball fight came to the forefront and fresh tears stung his eyes. He had come to enjoy the simple pleasures; to cast aside his jadedness and learn to laugh and simply have fun.

She had somehow broken down each of his walls and defenses. By opening his heart to Charlotte, he had also learned to be his true self.

Galadriel stopped in front of him.

“What else did Charlotte teach you?”

Thranduil met her gaze.

_Charlotte had been his lesson,_ he realised with crystal clear clarity.

“Everything,” he whispered, all the fight leaving him. He hung his head, his silver-white hair falling around his face like a curtain as tears stung his eyes. “She taught me everything. She was…everything to me.”

_And now she is gone…_

He finally allowed his grief to take him, and a lone tear fell from his eyes.

A warm hand took his own and he slowly raised his head to meet Galadriel’s own. She peered at him with warmth and understanding.

“Do not lose hope, Thranduil,” she said softly.

Thranduil closed his eyes tightly. “My hope, as well as my reason for living, was taken along with Charlotte.”

There was a prolonged pause.

“I think there is something you need to see.”

Thranduil let out a weary sigh. “Please, no more games, Galadriel. I have not the heart for it.”

“I think, perhaps, that this is something you would want to observe for yourself…” She dropped his handed and glided over to where a bridge spanned connected this platform to another flet.

Thranduil watched her cross. His heart yearned to leave and find a place of solitude where he could succumb to his grief. But something inexplicable stirred within him and, coming to a decision, he decided to follow Galadriel. She waited patiently for him on the other side and together they made their way from one flet to another, neither uttering a word as they descended staircases and crossed numerous bridges.

“Where are we going?” he finally asked.

“You shall soon see,” she replied cryptically, her eyes sparkling with her secret.

They crossed one last bridge and she stopped at door. She glanced over her shoulder, her smile radiant, but it was not a smile he could, or would, return. Instead, he stared back at her with a guarded mask. Galadriel turned her attention back to the door and opened it, stepping aside for him to enter.

“Go inside,” she urged.

Thranduil stared at her for a heartbeat. Then, taking a deep breath, he strode into the room.

He now stood in a healing room, the lanterns casting the interior in a warm golden glow. Sheer curtains fluttered and danced in the soft breeze floating through the windows, obscuring the beds and occupants from his sight.

Then the breeze stilled, the curtains floating back into place and his gaze narrowed in on one bed in particular. Where the other beds were empty, this one was currently occupied.

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder at Galadriel, and she gave a nod.

Thranduil stepped forward with cautious steps and reached out, drawing back the curtain. He froze in place, the very air stolen from his lungs.

For there, lying on the bed, was Charlotte.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you needs to go out to everyone who has been following this story and have left such wonderful comments. You guys have been absolutely wonderful.
> 
> This chapter is a bit long, but I decided to add Carl's scene instead of leaving it as a chapter on it's own.
> 
> When I started this story, this is how I originally planned to end it. But I am having way too much fun with this story and I, too, want to explore how Charlotte adjusts to life in ME. So onwards, I guess... :D
> 
> Here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it :)

Thranduil stood frozen in shock, though there was no denying the hope that was slowly unfurling in his heart. As the seconds ticked by, he had still yet to move as he stared down at Charlotte with wide crystalline blue eyes.

Charlotte lay on the bed, as though in a deep sleep. The grey colorations of death that had tainted her flesh with death had now been replaced with a healthy pink glow. Her chest rose and fell with each peaceful breath - this small detail assuring Thranduil that not only was she alive, but she was also very much well.

As he gradually drank in the sight of her, he noted that her old clothing had been replaced with a simple, yet beautiful, white satin gown that draped over her form like a silky waterfall. Her once unruly hair was now splayed around her head in a lustrous halo of dark waves, making her seem like a vision from a dream.

Charlotte was beautiful - she always had been in his eyes. The very sight of her would always steal his breath away.

“How is this even possible? I watched her die in my arms,” he whispered, still unable to tear his gaze from her.

_Was this even real?_

He yearned to reach out and take her hand, but part of him was afraid that if he did so, she would vanish under his touch like a cruel and teasing illusion.

“Charlotte was not dead when I pulled her into our world, Thranduil,” came Galadriel’s soft voice from behind him.

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder at her, frowning. _He had been certain that her life force had faded, but maybe he had been too consumed in his grief that he had not noticed that she was still holding on._

“Once delivered to our realm, I managed to pull her from the brink of death and heal her,” came another voice; a voice he immediately recognized.

Thranduil whipped his in the direction of the familiar voice, his eyes landing on Lord Elrond, who was now walking towards the bed. Elrond assessed Charlotte with wise eyes that shone with kindness before meeting Thranduil’s gaze, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips.

“Charlotte is a fighter,” he intoned in his rich, smooth voice as he folded his arms in front of him, his rust colored robes rustling at the motion.

Thranduil could only stare mutely at his old friend, his mind now a deluge of shock and endless questions that burned to be answered.

Finally, he turned his sights to Galadriel, his voice a hoarse as he stated, “You sent for Elrond to heal Charlotte.”

“I knew the time was drawing near when we would need a gifted healer,” Galadriel explained.

Thranduil turned his attention once more to Elrond, but words eluded him, and his eyes were inadvertently drawn back to Charlotte. He tentatively reached out, his fingers brushing her hand and he visibly relaxed when she did not disappear under his touch. His hand curled around hers, relishing in the now warm feel of her skin. _He doubted he would ever be able to cast away the memory of her flesh cold with oncoming death._

Thranduil sat down on the edge of the bed, clasping her hand firmly in his. His heart welled at the sight and feel of her, and he raised her hand to his lips, brushing his lips across her warm skin. He slowly lowered her hand, never taking his eyes from her, even when he asked his next question.

“What was the point of all this, Galadriel?”

_Yes, there had been an important lesson he had to go through, but there was more to it than that…_

Galadriel stepped into view, though he stubbornly refused to tear his gaze from Charlotte.

“The Valar sent me a vision many moons ago, Thranduil. If you had continued on the path that you were on, closed off and your heart warped with coldness and indifference to the plight of the outside world, I fear the final outcome for you and your kingdom would have been but a cruel fate.” Galadriel paused, her keen eyes studying him. Thranduil slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers. “You needed to change, both in mindset and heart…and there was only one who was capable of such a feat.”

Galadriel cast her eyes to Charlotte, her meaning crystal clear. Only Charlotte wielded the power to thaw his once frozen heart. Thranduil swallowed thickly and looked back down at the woman who had become his whole world. _His everything._

“That she did. And so much more,” he murmured, raising his hand to caress her cheek with the back of his hand. He vowed to value the gift that was purely Charlotte each and every day, however long that may be.

Poignant silence now descended the room, Thranduil lost in his thoughts as he held onto Charlotte’s hand like a lifeline.

“There is something else you should know,” Elrond spoke up.

Thranduil glanced up, dread curling in the pit of his stomach as he waited for what his friend was about to tell him. Elrond walked around the bed and now came to stand beside Galadriel, and as the two stood side by side, Thranduil marveled at the stark contrast between them: dark warmth versus cold light.

“You may find that Charlotte has been somewhat changed,” Elrond stated cautiously, as though he were carefully weighing his next words.

Thranduil stiffened. “What is it?” he asked guardedly. _Please don’t let her memory of our time together be lost…_

“The Valar have bestowed a gift.”

Thranduil’s dark brows knitted together at Elrond’s cryptic words.

“A gift?” he drew out.

A knowing smile graced Galadriel’s lips and she stepped forward, now coming to stand in front of Thranduil and Charlotte, and she placed a slender hand upon his shoulder.

“Charlotte has been given the gift of immortality. Her lifespan will now match yours.”

Thranduil blinked in surprise. _He had vowed to cherish each and every day of her mortal life with him, but now…_

He slowly turned his stunned gaze back to Charlotte.

_…now they had forever._

Something became deep rooted in his heart, and he suddenly realized that it was hope.

“Thank you,” he whispered, bowing his head in gratitude to them both.

Elrond merely smiled kindly at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Words did not need to be spoken for Thranduil to know that the Lord of Rivendell was, indeed, happy for him.

Galadriel squeezed his shoulder and left his side to rejoin Elrond.

“You should wake her,” she encouraged.

Thranduil swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous, though he did well to hide it.

_Would she remember…_

Thranduil leaned forward and laid a soft and chaste kiss upon her cheek, closing his eyes at the fact that this small act felt so significant. His heart thudded in his chest as he straightened, preparing himself for what was to come.

“Charlotte?”

Her fingers twitched in his hand.

“Charlotte? _Meleth n_ _î_ _n?”_

Charlotte let out a groan. “Five more minutes, Thranduil,” she mumbled groggily.

A wide smile bloomed on his face, and he had to refrain from scooping her up into his arms as pure happiness overwhelmed him.

Instead, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her ear.

“It’s time to wake up, little one.”

“Maybe if you wake me up nicely,” she murmured, sleep clearly no longer on her mind.

“As much as I’d love to, I don’t think our audience would appreciate the show,” he replied with a smirk.

A small frown furrowed her brows. Then slowly she opened her eyes, blinking as she struggled to wake. Her warm hazel eyes finally focused on him and Thranduil felt his heart constrict with unrestrained joy. Within those hazel depths he glimpsed her fire; the light that was purely Charlotte shining bright and pure.

“Audience?” she croaked.

Thranduil cast his eyes sidelong. Charlotte followed his gaze and stiffened when her attention landed on the two elves standing to the side, watching them with that eerie unblinking gaze that only elves seemed capable of.

Her eyes widened spectacularly, and she bolted up into a sitting position, almost colliding with Thranduil. Her free hand gripped Thranduil’s upper arm as she openly gaped at the pair, words eluding her.

He watched her struggle to understand what was going on.

Finally, she met his gaze.

“Is that…?”

“Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond? Yes.”

Charlotte gnawed on her bottom lip. She cast one more disbelieving glance their way.

“But that must mean we’re in…”

“Middle Earth.”

Her hand was still like an iron grip on his arm as she processed this information. He watched intently as something shifted on her features; another thought, another memory taking a hold on her.

_She was remembering…_

“I…I died?” she asked, her voice cracking as she stared back at him with wide eyes that shimmered brightly with emotion.

Staring down at her, Thranduil made a promise to himself that he would endeavor to protect Charlotte from experiencing such fear and pain ever again.

“Galadriel bought you back and Elrond healed you.” It was but a brief and simple explanation, and he felt he should not explain the full extent of it. He did not want her to know how close she had come to being lost to him forever.

Charlotte released his arm and ran her hand through her hair, sighing. Whether from relief or dismay, he could not tell.

“And Eric?” she asked after a pause.

“Dead,” Thranduil stated, unable to hide the grim satisfaction from his tone.

She nodded. “Good.”

Another lull descended as he waited patiently for her to process everything. Suddenly she glanced up at him with what could only be described as sheer terror.

“Thranduil, I need you to be honest with me,” she said with urgency.

His body tensed at her sudden alarm.

“Are my ears…are my ears pointy?”

_What?!_ Thranduil blinked once in dismay. _Why would she think that…?_ Suddenly he realized: she, too, had read those fanfiction stories about a girl falling into Middle Earth and suddenly becoming an elf. He had to refrain from bursting into laughter.

Thranduil schooled his features into a serious mask and made a show of brushing her hair back. He narrowed his eyes as he peered closely at her exposed ear.

“I regret to inform you,” he said with a dramatic pause, “that your ears are boringly rounded as normal.”

Charlotte let out a _whoosh_ of air, her body slumping in relief.

“Thank goodness,” she breathed out.

Thranduil suddenly had her enveloped in his arms, burying his nose into the crook of her neck and letting her scent wash over him like a comforting blanket.

“I thought I had lost you, Charlotte,” he murmured against her skin.

Charlotte hugged him back just as tightly. “I’m here, Thranduil,” she assured.

Thranduil pulled back enough to gaze down at her.

_Yes, she was indeed here. And now they could share their lives together._

He cupped her face between her palms and brushed lips against hers in a gentle and tender kiss, pouring all his love and relief into this act. Charlotte wound her arms around his neck and soon the kiss turned heated and more urgent, as though both were afraid that this moment would be lost to them forever - that they would be cruelly ripped apart again.

Thranduil broke from the kiss first, resting his forehead against her own as he closed his eyes tightly against the surge of emotions that coursed through him. _He wanted to hold onto her, onto this moment, forever._

A discreet cough sounded behind them and Charlotte hastily pushed away, her cheeks flaming as she realized that she had forgotten all about Galadriel and Elrond in their heated exchange.

But Galadriel merely smiled serenely at her as she glided towards them.

“There is one other surprise for you.”

Thranduil sighed wearily. _This had better be good,_ he thought with irritation, but stood up with liquid grace. He turned to help Charlotte to her feet but saw that she was staring at Galadriel with a puzzled expression.

“Is she speaking Sindarin right now?”

“Yes,” Thranduil drew out, unsure where she was going with her question.

“Then why do I understand her?”

Thranduil blinked as the realization hit him. _Charlotte was not only understanding Sindarin, but she had been speaking it the whole time!_ He must have been too wrapped up in the moment to notice.

He turned his attention to Galadriel, raising a questioning brow.

“Consider it my gift,” Galadriel replied simply.

Thranduil nodded and turned to help Charlotte off the bed. She clutched his hand nervously as she stared back in awe at the Lady of the Wood, suddenly feeling very small in the presence of greatness.

Galadriel’s eyes twinkled with an inner mirth and she turned silently to lead the way. Thranduil and Charlotte followed hand-in-hand, but he halted as he passed Elrond. He bowed his head in silent thanks and gratitude, curling his hand over his heart. Elrond inclined his head, a smile of his own shining on his features.

“Look after her, Thranduil. A gift like is very rare indeed.”

As Thranduil glanced down at Charlotte, he knew this was a promise he would keep.

“To the end of my days,” he vowed.

They followed Galadriel down the endless winding staircase until their feet reached solid ground.

It was quiet, save for the soft dulcet tones floating on the air as a faraway song was sung, the words blending into the musical strings and flowing as one. Charlotte was unnaturally quiet as she stared open-mouthed at everything, lost in her awe.

Then suddenly Haldir appeared, followed closely by Tallagor. At the sight of Thranduil and Charlotte, the moose let out a mighty bellow and rushed towards them - Haldir barely managing to jump out of the way in time.

Thranduil stepped in front of Charlotte and braced himself for the brunt of the moose’s enthusiastic affections, though a wide and joyful grin alighted his features. Tallagor was making deep and happy sounds deep in his throat as he nudged and nuzzled the Elevenking, who murmured soft words of assurances as he smoothed down his fur.

Charlotte peered around Thranduil and the Tallagor let out an almost mournful sound, making his way to her with more care than he had shown either Haldir or Thranduil.

The moose lowered his head, nudging her face gently with his bulbous nose. Charlotte chuckled and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her cheek against his soft fur.

“He, too, thought you had been to lost to us,” Thranduil stated.

Charlotte pulled back and stared back at the black soulful eyes that shined brightly with joy at seeing her. Thranduil had been correct: Tallagor was a gentle soul and loyal to a fault.

She glanced over her shoulder at Galadriel.

“You bought him back?” she asked in wonder.

“There was no choice. Carl refused to keep him.”

Charlotte stilled. “You talked to Carl?”

Galadriel gave a nod. “Yes. He instructed me to tell you that he loves you very much, Charlotte.”

Tears stung her eyes. _She would never see the man who was like an uncle to her ever again._

“Will he be okay?” Charlotte asked thickly.

The corners of Galadriel’s mouth quirked up in a warm smile. “Yes. He has been given a new purpose in life.”

Charlotte nodded. If Galadriel was sure that Carl was going to be alright, then she was inclined to believe her. She had no other choice but to trust her at her word.

The feel of Thranduil draping his cloak over her shoulders bought her back to the present, his scent lingering on the heavy material a comfort. Then something caught her eye and she suddenly gripped Thranduil’s arm.

“Is that Haldir?” she hissed.

Thranduil glanced up at the elf in question, who was quietly standing off to the side, indomitable and reserved as usual.

“Yes.”

“Quick! Give me a pen and paper.”

Thranduil glanced down at her in dismay. “Whatever for?”

“I want an autograph,” she explained, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. Charlotte was ‘fangirling’, and over Haldir of all elves.

Haldir turned away, but Thranduil glimpsed the amused smile that flittered across his features.

“Right, I think it best we be off before you become infatuated with anyone else.”

“Oh, come now,” she protested. “Haldir’s famous!”

It took everything for Thranduil not to roll his eyes again. But as he looked down at her, he could not help the smile that made its way onto his face. _Charlotte really was endearing little thing._

He turned and issued a command to Tallagor and the moose obediently knelt down. Thranduil helped Charlotte onto Tallagor’s back before settling behind her. As the moose rose on his spindly legs, Thranduil wrapped his arm protectively around her middle, drawing her flush against him.

“Where are we going?” Charlotte asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Home,” he stated. “We are going home.”

 

ooOoo

 

_What happened in the modern world after Thranduil and Charlotte were returned to Middle Earth…_

Carl burst through the clearing, his gun clutched in his hand and ready to shoot. But he stopped in his tracks at the sight of Eric’s body splayed on the snow, his head lying not too far away. A halo of bright red blood stained the snow around his body, signaling the end of Eric’s tyranny.

Carl’s eyes scanned the area for Thranduil and Charlotte, but could not discern any signs of either of them.

“Charlotte! Thranduil!” he shouted, anxiety coursing through him.

Then he noted more blood that was too far away to belong to Eric. His heart stuttered to a halt.

_No! Please don’t let it be my little Charlotte!_

The indentation in the snow told the tale though, and he could now see clearly in his mind where she had fallen, bleeding out as Thranduil held her.

Carl hung his head as his grief overwhelmed him.

“Charlotte will be taken care of, Carl,” came a beautiful and ethereal voice from behind him.

Carl whirled around, his gun trained and ready to shoot whoever was creeping up on him.

At the sight of Galadriel, walking barefoot and leaving not a single trace in the snow, Carl gaped openly. She truly was a sight to behold, from her golden waves to her silken dress that whispered and flowed against her body as she made her way with poise and grace towards him.

“Charlotte is not lost to us,” Galadriel continued, now standing in front of the man.

“She’s alive?” Carl asked, snapping out of his stupor. He realized he still had his gun trained on her and he hastily holstered it.

Galadriel smiled softly. “Yes. She will survive and will live a wonderful life with Thranduil.”

This news should have gladdened him, but a great sorrow overtook him.

“Will I ever see her again?” he asked.

Galadriel closed the distance and laid her hand upon his shoulder. “No. Your purpose remains here, in this world.”

Carl frowned. _What purpose did he have now?_

“The boy,” Galadriel said, as though she had read his mind. _And maybe she had_.

_The boy? What boy?_

Then it hit him. She was talking about Eric and Lucy’s son!

Carl shook his head in refusal.

“Do not behold an innocent child to the sins of his father,” she said softly, but with authority, and Carl felt instantly shamed. _Yes, the baby was innocent in all of this and should not be blamed for the actions of his lunatic of a father_.

“But what do you want me to do?”

“You played an important role in Charlotte’s life. You can do the same for the boy. With your aid, he may grow to do great things.”

Carl closed his eyes. He loved children, this was true, but taking on this boy was going to dredge up some painful memories - a pain he never talked about. Never dared think about.

“I am truly sorry for what they did to your wife and son, Carl,” Galadriel consoled.

The tear fell unbidden as the memory he had locked away so long ago came to the forefront.

_He had met Katie while in his early twenties, and they had instantly fallen in love. She had been a spitfire, so full of life and vigor and it hadn’t taken long for Carl to fall for her._

_While he sought a career in the military field, Katie’s path took her to that of an investigative journalist. She was like a hound dog, digging up dirt and bringing down corrupt individuals who held positions of power, and had shown a dogged persistence when it came to bringing them to justice._

_Katie had fallen pregnant with their son, Seth, while she had been working on a particular case in exposing a corrupt government official. Carl had felt immense excitement, love and exhilaration at the prospect of becoming a father, and the day that she went into labor was a day filled with nerves, excitement and anticipation. He was finally going to meet his son!_

_But those feeling of joy were short-lived as something went wrong and Katie had to be rushed in for an emergency surgery. Carl had not experienced such crippling fear as he had that day, helplessly remaining in the waiting room while they worked to save her and the life of their son’s._

_When the surgeon walked through the door, though, Carl knew right away that the battle had been lost. Something in him died that day as he crumpled to the floor in a broken heap, his wife and son lost to him forever._

_Five years later, his best friend, Frank and his wife, Gloria, welcomed a little girl into the world. Charlotte._

_Carl delayed the moment he when he would finally meet her, knowing that it would only dredge up the pain he had worked so hard to bury. But he also knew he could not hold it off anymore. So it was with great reluctance that he went to visit them, and when he laid eyes on the squirming, screaming being that was supposed to be a bundle of joy, he instantly fell in love right there and then, and vowed he would always be there for Charlotte._

_It was around the time Charlotte was seven that he received an anonymous envelope. Inside was the truth._

_Katie had been very close to exposing a particular corrupt government official and the order had been given for her to be stopped at all costs. Her labor had been the perfect opportunity, and a little something added to her IV had been sufficient enough. It had not mattered that the life of their son had been taken along with her._

_Carl never did find out who had sent him the envelope, or why, but at least he had the truth. But he could not bring this truth to light, as he now feared losing Charlotte and his best friends. This fear was enough for him to remain silent. So, he left his life with the military, unable to be patriotic to a government that had issued the order to kill his wife and son. He wanted to make those people pay for what they had done, but he was but one man. He, alone, could do nothing. And so the years passed, his anger festering and brewing, but bearing no fruition._

Carl lifted his sorrow-filled gaze to meet Galadriel’s.

“Raise the boy as your own. You may find that he is the answer you have sought all these years.”

Carl rubbed his hand tiredly over his face. “Look, even if I wanted to, I doubt whether I would be allowed to adopt him. Lucy’s parents will probably take him.”

“They are giving him up for adoption.”

Carl looked up in surprise, and Galadriel gave him a sad look.

Carl swallowed hard. Galadriel was asking a great deal of him, but something churned in him, planting a seed of hope in his heart. He was not a heartless fool, and if she thought that he could do right by this child, then he would at least try.

Galadriel smiled at the determination that now flared through him.

_The boy would grow up with great love for his ‘dad’, and eventually Carl would tell him the story of his parents, as well as what had happened to Carl and his family. This would spurn the boy to seek a career in the FBI and he would finally bring down the man responsible for Katie and Seth’s death. The day he broke the news to Carl, was the day that Carl finally found peace. As Carl hugged his son at this joyous news, the years of pent up pain finally receded. Contentment settled over him and he lived out the rest of his days as a devoted father and grandfather._

A low, mournful bellow sounded behind them and Carl whirled around to find the damned moose nosing around in the snow in a dejected manner, clearly searching for his elf and human. The moose raised his head and let out another drawn-out moan of desolation.

Carl turned back to Galadriel, who was looking at him expectantly.

“I’ll do what you have asked of me, but I absolutely refuse to take on a moose as a pet!”

“Are you sure? I think he would make a fine companion,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Yes! If he stays, he’s being turned into moose burgers.”

“Very well,” she said with mirth and strode towards Tallagor. She whispered some strange sounding words to him, and Carl watched in awe as the elf and moose walked away side by side.

“Hey!” he called out.

Galadriel paused, glancing over her shoulder at him with a delicately raised brow.

“Tell Charlotte I love her, will ya,” he said gruffly.

Galadriel smiled and gave a nod of assent, before turning away and leading Tallagor through the trees, vanishing from Carl’s sight.

“Carl!” came another voice from behind him, and he turned in time to see Agent Phillips burst through the tree line.

She had been beautiful when she was younger, and even now, with her auburn hair now grey and fine lines gracing her face, there was a certain amount of attractiveness to her. She stopped at the sight of Eric’s body and then she glanced at Carl.

“It’s over then?”

Carl nodded sadly. “Yes.”

“And Charlotte?”

“Gone.”

Her grey eyes saddened at this news, and suddenly Carl had a revelation.

“You were the one who sent me that envelope, weren’t you?”

She swallowed, the moment of truth coming to light. “Yes. Katie’s death did not settle well with me and I decided to dig around. But that bastard was too powerful, too protected for me to do anything, Carl. I knew you would want to know the truth, so I sent it to you. I had hoped you would be able to do more with the information than I could.” She looked uncomfortable as she glanced down. “I wish I could have done more, Carl. I wanted to do more. I’m so sorry.”

Carl sighed. Angela was a true friend, having helped him more than he cared to admit to over the years. If she said that it was out of her hands, he was damned sure that she had explored every possibility before giving up.

“I doubt whether you could have done anything, Angela, and I don’t blame you.” He paused, a thought occurring to him. “Though, there is a favor I need.”

Angela looked up, waiting for his request.

“I want to adopt Eric’s son.”

She blinked in surprise, but then an understanding look washed over her. “Now that is something I can arrange.”

Somewhere in the distance, Galadriel smiled to herself. Everything was coming together the way it was meant to. She turned, followed faithfully by Tallagor, and together they disappeared back to Middle Earth.


	37. Chapter 37

“How long until we reach Greenwood?” Charlotte asked.

They had been travelling for a few hours now, and riding Tallagor without a saddle was proving to be a rather uncomfortable experience - at least for Charlotte anyway. Thranduil seemed to be in his element as he hummed a beautiful tune from behind her, his body relaxed and fluid.

“Seven days,” came his reply.

Charlotte inwardly groaned. _Seven days! How was she supposed to put up with this for seven days?_

Granted, Tallagor was actively trying to make their journey as smooth as possible for his companions, but there were only so many bumps and jostles her bottom could take. An aching numbness had settled in that region after the first hour of their journey.

“We’ll stop at nightfall and make camp.” Thranduil could sense Charlotte’s discomfort, though she was putting on a brave face and keeping her complaints to herself.

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder at him. “You know, with a car this journey would take a day, maximum.”

An indignant snort came from Tallagor.

The corner of his lip twitched. “And I thank the Valar that such a contraption has not found its way into Middle Earth.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, though she smiled at the memory of Thranduil clinging to the armrests for dear life when she had taken him for a ride in her car for the first and last time. Until they had been forced to flee. Now that memory seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had changed since then.

“What are you thinking, little one?”

“I just came to the realisation that our roles have been reversed and that I’m now going to have to adjust to this world, just as you had to adjust to mine. I would be lying if I didn’t say I was nervous.” ‘ _Petrified’ was the more appropriate term._

His hand found hers and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I will be here to guide you through this new world, Charlotte.”

She leaned back slightly, letting his body mold behind her like a comforting blanket. The lands stretched out before them, cast in a golden glow from the rare winter’s sun. The grounds here were dusted in a fine layer of snow, but this was modicum compared to the amount of snow she was used to.

She thought back to when they had departed from Lorien and had followed the River Anduin until they had reached calmer waters. There were two marchwardens waiting for them with a boat to aid in their crossing. Much to Charlotte’s surprise, Tallagor had bounded into the water like a Golden Retriever and proved that he was an exceptional swimmer. Though, they had been forced to walk for an hour until he had dried enough for them to ride him.

Charlotte cast her gaze ahead, gnawing on her bottom lip. “There is something I wanted to ask…”

Thranduil patiently waited for her to continue.

“The clothes Galadriel gave me for the journey…”

Before they had departed, Galadriel had presented them with a knapsack with supplies they would need for their journey back to Mirkwood. Charlotte had thought nothing of it at the time, assuming it had contained water and food. But while they had waited for Tallagor to air dry, Thranduil had produced some clothing for her from the bag. There had been warm woolen leggings, a tunic, a pair of knee-high leather boots and a cloak. Charlotte had hastily dressed in these warm supplies, marveling that they fitted her perfectly. Almost as though they had been tailored specifically for her. But she had eyed the cloak, shaking her head and had stated that she much preferred wearing his. This earned a smile from Thranduil, as he was rather fond of seeing his cloak draped over her diminutive form.

“…it’s just, I noticed that there was no kind of…underwear…” She let her sentence trail off.

“Yes, there were undergarments supplied for you.”

“You mean those hideous Granny panties?” she asked with undisguised dismay.

Thranduil chuckled to himself. _If only she had been around to witness his utter confusion at the boxer briefs she had bought for him._

“Worry not, little one,” he said, having pity on her. “I will have some undergarments made for you when we arrive back at my kingdom. Underwear that you’re used to wearing.”

A thought came to him and he knew with certainty that the court seamstress was going to be a very busy elleth. _He could just imagine the dismayed look on her face when he gave her explicit instructions on what he wanted made…_

They travelled onwards until the sky turned duskish with the preparation of the oncoming night.

“I think we shall stop for the night and make camp,” Thranduil murmured, his keen eyes searching for an appropriate spot. His sights landed on a clearing in the thick woods that flanked their right side, and he steered Tallagor in that direction. The dense covering of trees soon shrouded them from view; the blanket of night offering an extra layer of concealment.

Charlotte had perked up instantly at this suggestion and let out a breathy sigh of relief when Thranduil dismounted and helped her off Tallagor. The moose immediately set about snuffling at the ground, searching for something to eat, and let out a series of delighted grunts when he happened upon some roots and edible foliage.

Charlotte clutched Thranduil’s cloak tighter around her, her face numb from the quickly cooling night air, and half-heartedly wished that she had been changed into an elf. _Having the superior biology of an elf would be useful, especially right now while travelling in the middle of winter._

She shivered and resigned herself to the fact that this was to be her way of life from now on. She glanced at Thranduil, knowing in her heart that he was worth it. _He was worth it all_.

“Out of curiosity, Galadriel didn’t happen to stow away a bottle of wine in that knapsack?” she asked hopefully.

“Alas, no.”

Charlotte internally sighed. _Of course not._ She watched as Thranduil started gathering up wood to make a fire and decided to help. With enough wood gathered, they now crouched side-by-side and she watched intently as he expertly kindled a flame using the old-fashioned method of rubbing a stick vigorously between his palms.

“Almost makes you wish you had a lighter,” she mused.

The corner of his lip twitched. “Do you happen to have one on you?”

“Alas, no.”

Thranduil sat back on his heels, feeding the fire more kindling until it started to grow.

“I do miss the finer comforts your world had to offer, but I am glad to be back home. Though,” he said, a faraway look now gracing his features, “there is one thing that I shall miss…”

“Oh?” she asked with a quirk of a brow. _This should be interesting._

“Pizza,” he stated with undisguised longing.

Charlotte let out a laugh. “It’s a good thing you left when you did. If you had stayed much longer you would have become fat from eating all that pizza and ice-cream!”

_Come to think of it, did elves even have the ability to get fat?_

Thranduil merely smiled at her and pulled her close to his side as they settled comfortably in front of the fire, both staring at the flickering golden flames that licked hungrily at the wood.

After a few moments of contented silence, Thranduil kissed the top of her head and murmured, “I know this is going to be a difficult adjustment for you, Charlotte, but I still hold true to what I said earlier: I will be there to help you in any way that I can.”

Charlotte snuggled against him, resting her head against his chest, the sure beat of his heart a reassuring and lulling tempo.

“With you by my side, it doesn’t seem so bad.”

Thranduil was fairly certain that she was quoting a line from a movie or a television show. But it did not matter – those words had a profoundly beautiful ring to it.

“As it should be,” he replied, resting his cheek against her head. _They would make it together. Side-by-side._

 

ooOoo

 

The next few days passed in the same manner: they would ride forth, only stopping for a few breaks. As Tallagor would nose around for edible plants to eat, Thranduil and Charlotte would find a place to rest and would nibble on the Lembas bread Galadriel had supplied them. Charlotte marveled that this sweet bread, which had been carefully wrapped in Mallorn leaves, had a noticeably rejuvenating effect on her and could stave off the hunger pangs for hours. Part of her wished it could also ease the aches in her body from riding Tallagor for so long.

At night they would make camp, Thranduil curled behind her as he wrapped His arm protectively around her middle until Charlotte fell asleep. Then he would regretfully leave her side and stand watch, searching for any lurking dangers.

As he stood guard over his most precious treasure, he could sense a subtle shift in the lands beyond. The darkness that had threatened to strangle them was fast receding and a peace was now descending upon their world. Though, through certain foreknowledge, he knew this peace was not to last - especially with a certain evil lurking on the horizon, biding its time. But for now, they were safe, and soon he and Charlotte would be home.

On the seventh day they found themselves at the edge of Mirkwood. Thranduil halted Tallagor with a softly spoken command at the entrance of the murky and formidable looking forest.

Charlotte instantly recognized the path from the movies – the same path Thorin and his company had traversed before getting lost and then captured by giant spiders. She shuddered at the thought.

“Do your elfy eyes see any spiders?” she asked nervously, unable to tear her gaze from the gloom permeating from deep within the forest like a dark stain.

“If we do not stray from the path set out before us, then we shall not run into any trouble. Though I sense the darkness that once stained my lands is fast fading.”

Charlotte mulled over his words, knowing that this peace was only a temporary illusion until Sauron rose to power again. But she did not want to dwell on these dark thoughts, and eager to break Thranduil from the downheartedness that had now washed over him, she decided for distraction.

“Well, I for one am eager to get reach your kingdom and have a bath! It’s been days since I last had one.”

She could sense him grinning down at her.

“Don’t laugh at me. You elves can probably go for weeks without having a bath and still smell as fresh as a daisy.” She paused, another thought coming to the surface. “In fact, I noticed you didn’t even use the toothbrush I bought you.”

“I had no use for it.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Seriously?”

He gave a small nod, mirth dancing in his cerulean eyes.

_Who would have guessed? Elves had self-cleaning teeth!_

“Oh, that’s just unfair!” she whined. “You’re practically perfect in every way. I should start calling you Mary Poppins.”

“Who?”

“Never mind,” she muttered, her mind now focused on other things – mainly on how she was going to keep her teeth clean and cavity free. She was now in a world that was similar to Medieval Times and she really didn’t fancy finding out firsthand how dentistry worked here.

She ran her tongue over her front teeth and frowned. _Odd…her teeth felt as though they had been freshly scrubbed by a toothbrush…_

Thranduil gently nudged Tallagor, and the moose proceeded to carry them on the path laid out before them, but not before Charlotte’s gaze landed on the statue of Thranduil’s late wife, Calemir. Even though the white alabaster stone had long faded to a dull grey over the course of time, and vines had curled around the statue, obscuring most discernable features from sight, there was no denying that the sculptor had intricately captured her beauty.

Charlotte could not feel jealousy – only a sense of sadness that such a fate had befallen an elleth that had been pure of heart. _Would this, too, be her fate?_

Thranduil must have noted her lingering gaze on the statue but remained silent as they passed the tribute dedicated to the late Queen of Mirkwood.

They made their way deeper into the woods, the looming and twisting trees surrounding them from all sides. Their outstretched branches formed a foreboding canopy and blocked out most sunlight, so that only a suffocating gloom permeated all around them. She clutched at Thranduil’s arm, which was wrapped securely around her middle, and her heart started to beat wildly in her chest. Her eyes were continuously searching skywards for signs of spindly legs attached to bloated bodies that would signal their imminent death.

But as they started to near Thranduil’s kingdom, there was a distinct change; so subtle at first that she hadn’t noticed it right away.

In the distance she could hear the melodious and shrill chirps of birds as they sang their song. A soft and cool breeze fluttered across her face and she inhaled a deep breath, delighting in the fresh and earthy smell that now permeated the air instead of the stifling stale air from before. Even the unnatural gloom was lifting, rays of sunlight filtering through the branches and warming her upturned face.

She slowly gazed around her, marveling at how healthy the trees in this part of the forest appeared. The sound of rushing water reached her ears and she found her body reacting to that of anticipation. _They were nearing the Elvenking’s Halls!_

She glanced back at Thranduil, wonder and awe written all over her face.

“I never thought Mirkwood could be so beautiful. The movies only showed the doom and gloom.”

“As with everything, there is more than meets the eye,” he replied evenly, though his ice blue eyes sparkled with a sense of pride.

Suddenly Thranduil tensed, his sights narrowed in further down the path. Then his posture relaxed behind her. She was about to enquire what was wrong when she heard it in the distance: hooves galloping towards them.

It didn’t take long for the elf to appear further up the path, and from the light leather armor he wore, Charlotte guessed that he was part of Thranduil’s Guard. As he approached them, she was floored at how young he appeared, though she knew that elves were deceptively youthful looking. But their eyes gave them away and told of their agelessness. Elves possessed ancient eyes; eyes that had witnessed far too much and had weathered the countless years, seasons, and rise and fall of generations.

“My King,” the guard greeted, curling his hand over his heart and bowing his head in reverence, his chestnut long hair falling over his shoulders. When he glanced back up, there was undisguised relief flooding his features.

“Feren,” Thranduil greeted back formally.

Feren’s chocolate brown eyes flickered to Charlotte, but any thoughts he may have had about her presence, he wisely kept to himself.

“I would like for you to see that my quarters are suitably prepared for both myself and Lady Charlotte.”

Feren gave a small bow of his head and was about to turn his horse around to do as his King bid, when Thranduil spoke up again.

“And please ensure that a bath is drawn. It has been a long journey.”

As Feren galloped off, Charlotte gave a longing sigh at the thought of a nice hot bath.

“If I didn’t love you already, I would certainly love you now. I plan to soak in that tub until I’m pruned.”

Thranduil chuckled amusedly and nudged Tallagor onwards. “As long as I get to join you.”

“You can…if the tub is big enough.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find space enough,” he teased, his heart much lighter than it had ever been in years. _He was returning home. And, most importantly, he was returning with Charlotte._

 

ooOoo

 

They arrived at the front doors of the mountainous kingdom. Charlotte gaped openly at the sight before her, the intricately carved pillars that framed the huge wooden doors spectacular both in height and splendor. Behind her gushed the river that flowed rapidly under the arched stone bridge and promised to be ice cold during this time of year.

Thranduil dismounted Tallagor with liquid grace and helped Charlotte down. He issued an order to a guard to take Tallagor to the stables and see that he was made comfortable, and fed and watered. She stroked the moose’s nose in thanks as well as affection, and noted with amusement that the guard who was to take Tallagor was staring at the animal with unfeigned curiosity. _Probably never seen a moose before_ , she mused to herself, and pondered whether moose were native to Middle Earth? _A question she would have to ask Thranduil later_.

She clutched Thranduil’s cloak tighter around her as her nerves got the better of her, and she swallowed nervously. _It was one thing arriving in another world. But now there was a very distinct possibility that she would face resistance from the subjects that dwelled in Mirkwood._

Charlotte startled when she felt a warm hand curl around her cold one and she glanced up at Thranduil, who was staring down at her with understanding written on his features.

“I will guide you through all this, little one. You have nothing to fear.”

“It’s just,” she whispered back, “I’m wondering if the saying is true about Mirkwood elves?”

“What saying is that?”

“That you lot are more dangerous and less wise.”

The corners of his mouth quirked. “I’m glad to hear that our reputation still holds fast.”

“But what if they rebel at the idea of you being with…me?” She couldn’t help the fearful quiver that crept into her voice.

Thranduil raised a brow, haughtiness exuding from him. “Then they will have me to deal with,” he stated darkly, and Charlotte suddenly felt sorry for any fool that dared cross the Elvenking.

“But I do not think you have anything to worry about,” he continued more softly. “As with anything, it takes time to adjust. Both for my subjects as well as for you.”

Charlotte nodded, but still did not feel reassured. She let Thranduil lead her through the giant doors, the guards’ expressions unreadable as they passed. If they had an opinion of the situation, she could not tell.

They soon ascended winding staircases, Thranduil navigating them through countless passageways as he walked a well-known path to a destination she did not know, hanging lanterns lighting their way. She tried to orientate herself, but the palace was like an intricate maze, and it wouldn’t be hard to get lost here. But there was no denying the magnificence and beauty of the palace. _The movies hardly did it justice_ , she thought to herself.

Finally, they reached the topmost staircase and came upon another set of heavy oak doors where two guards were stationed.

They gave a respectful bow each to their King before swiftly stepping aside and opening the doors.

Charlotte glanced nervously at Thranduil and noted that his features were set in stone. She realized with a jolt that he was reverting back to the cold and formidable Elvenking, especially now that he had to resume his responsibility of King once more. She squeezed his hand, the movement drawing his attention to her, and she gave him a small, timid smile.

Thranduil blinked once, and the mask fell away as he returned her smile with a more reassuring one. He guided her into the room and the doors closed silently behind them. They now stood hand-in-hand in silence as Thranduil let Charlotte absorb it all.

She was completely speechless at the whole grandeur of the room. The sheer size alone was bigger than her house! Well, that was an exaggeration, but it really was spectacularly huge. On one end was a solid wood four poster bed with drapes tied back at each post. It was the biggest bed she had ever seen - big enough to get lost in! Thick blankets of a rich assortment adorned the bed, the color theme being silver and charcoal grey.

There was a closed door to the one side of the room, its interior remaining a mystery for now.

A grand fireplace was built into the center wall, a fire already lit and crackling invitingly. Two comfortable looking armchairs were placed strategically around the fireplace, and a small round table was situated between the two chairs, where a bottle of wine was nestled in a bucket of ice and uncorked, waiting to be drunk. A large and beautifully woven area rug carpeted the ‘lounge’ area, giving it quite the kingly feel.

On the other end of the room was a door that was slightly ajar, and she glimpsed the interior of what she guessed was the bathroom.

The rest of the room was richly decorated in such a way that it did not feel cavernous and had a familiar feel to it. Charlotte blinked and realized that each little detail, from the golden-framed oil paintings hanging on the walls to the finely carved ornaments decorating the mantle of the fireplace, was Thranduil’s personal touch. It was his essence exuding from this very room, and now that she had come to this realization, she could not imagine it any other way.

“Welcome home,” he whispered, his warm breath fluttering against her ear.

Charlotte was unable to respond, staring dazedly at her surroundings.

“What’s wrong, little one?” he asked, an edge of concern tinting his voice.

“I…I just realized that you’re…a King,” she stuttered. This was a side to him that she had known about, but hadn’t really dwelled on.

Thranduil shot her a puzzled frown. “I had thought that was plainly obvious from the start.”

Charlotte blinked, coming out of her stupor and met his enquiring gaze. She shook her head, her waves brushing her shoulders.

“In my eyes, you were always just Thranduil.”

Thranduil’s features softened at the truth of her words: Charlotte had looked past his title and had seen him for who he truly was. She had seen his true self; a self he had kept well-guarded and locked up. Until she had come along and had broken down all barriers.

He closed the distance and cupped her face between his palms. He sought her lips in a slow and tender kiss, which gradually turned heated. It had been well over a week since they had been together intimately, and now that they were safe at last and tucked away in his kingdom, he yearned to get lost in her and forget his royal duties. Tonight, he just wanted to be one with her.

Charlotte broke from the kiss, slightly breathless and her eyes glazed.

“Um, hold that thought. I really need a bath first.”

Thranduil sighed. “Must you really?”

“Yes! I haven’t bathed in a week.”

“You smell just fine to me,” he said, trying to steal another kiss, but Charlotte held him at bay with her palms pressed against his chest.

“Thranduil,” she chastised lightly with an eye-roll.

“Very well. But hurry up or else I shall be tempted to join you.”

Charlotte grinned and gave him a peck on the cheek before rushing to the bathroom. Thranduil went to pour himself a glass of his much-missed Dorwinion wine. _I have missed you dearly,_ he thought, eyeing his glass appreciatively.

“Oh. My. God!” came her exclamation from the bathroom. “This bathtub is huge!”

Charlotte poked her head out the door, a cheeky smile planted on her face. “I think there may be room enough for you to join me.”

Thranduil raised his glass, showing his true intentions. “Oh, I plan to. Just as soon as I’ve finished my wine.”

“I’ll wash you if you wash me,” she coaxed.

The glass was halfway to his lips when he paused, contemplating her request. Coming to a decision, he swiftly placed his glass down on the table and prowled towards the now giggling Charlotte, a whole new agenda on his mind.


	38. Chapter 38

To say the bathtub was ‘huge’, was an understatement - at least in Charlotte’s eyes, anyway.

The bathroom resembled something that could only found in the pages of a glossy magazine, whose pages featured an exclusive glimpse inside the homes of the fabulously rich and famous – a lifestyle that oozed lavish expense and was most definitely unobtainable.

The tub in question was more akin to a hot spring found in the belly of a cave, though this one was, instead, hewed into the Elvenking’s mountainous kingdom. It was currently filled to the brim with warm water, the steam swirling like misty tendrils over the water’s surface.

The floor of the bathroom was tiled with slabs of irregular shaped rock, the color blending in naturally with the walls of the mountain; brown and smoky grey converging and swirling together to form a unique montage.

Hanging lanterns illuminated the room in a warm glow, and as Charlotte glanced around, she noted small glass vials filled with liquids of an assortment of colors were neatly lined up at the one end of the bathtub. A tall marble table was situated close by, its rounded surface stacked with thick fluffy towels that promised to be as luxurious as they appeared.

Thranduil was used to a certain a level of comfort and finery, this much was obvious. How he managed to live in her house for a month was a mystery to Charlotte.

“Honestly, how did you make do with my itty-bitty shower?” she asked as she edged closer to the edge of the hot spring. _She was sticking to that terminology, for there was no way in her mind that this was an actual bathtub!_

“With great difficulty,” he replied drily from behind her.

Charlotte smiled to herself. _Yes, she could imagine it had been rather difficult for him…_

She turned around to ask another question and her mouth suddenly went dry, for Thranduil was staring at her with a penetrating gaze; his crystalline eyes were locked onto hers as he slowly and deliberately disrobed, the charcoal grey material fluttering to the floor and pooling around his feet. His gaze never wavered as he gripped the edge of his tunic, a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips as he pulled the garment over his head, his movements deliberately unhurried and teasing.

The tunic joined the robe and he now stood before her shirtless, absolutely breathtaking in his perfection. His smirk widened at Charlotte’s slack-jawed expression as she drank in the sight of him.

“Shall I continue?” he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

“Please,” she replied hoarsely.

“I thought you wanted to have a bath first?”

“Later,” she replied, “Right now, I think those need to come off,” she stated, her eyes wandering suggestively to his pants.

Thranduil’s movements became that of a predator as he advanced towards her with what could almost be described as a prowl, his nimble fingers unlacing the front of his pants as he neared her. He stopped just in front of her, and it took a great amount of effort for Charlotte to drag her gaze upwards.

“And tell me, little one,” he said, his voice having dropped to a husky octave as he ducked his head, “why am I undressing when you are obviously still in your clothes?” He raised a dark, thick brow in question, as well as suggestion.

Charlotte blinked, her lust-laced brain battling to comprehend what he had just said. She glanced down and realized that she was, indeed, still in her clothes.

She looked up, but found Thranduil already sauntering away. He stopped at the edge of the tub and glanced over his shoulder with a teasing light dancing in his eyes as he stripped off his pants and boots. He straightened, now gloriously naked, and all coherent thoughts fled her mind. He was mind-boggling perfect in every way, from his silver-white hair that flowed over his shoulders like a silky curtain, to the sinewy muscles rippling beneath the surface of his pearly white skin.

“You may join me when you feel so inclined,” he stated before slipping into the water.

Charlotte snapped out of trance and scowled at him. _He was having far too much fun teasing her in such a tantalizing manner._ It didn’t take long, though, for Charlotte to hastily strip off her clothing, which had begun to feel grungy from seven days of travels. She paused halfway through the motion of taking off her leggings, frowning that there was no stubble or signs of hair growth on her legs.

_Odd…_

She spluttered as warm water splashed her in the face, breaking her from her inner musings. She looked up with a scowl to see Thranduil grinning wickedly at her, his ice blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

_He was intent on playing with her…Well, two can play that game,_ she thought to herself.

Charlotte stepped out of her leggings and straightened, standing before him completely naked. She noted with satisfaction how the playfulness that had been lurking beneath his features a moment ago all but vanished as a certain kind of hunger replaced it. As his eyes slowly raked over her body, he swallowed - the movement almost imperceptible if she hadn’t been looking for it.

“Did you just splash me?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips and giving him a very stern look.

Thranduil met her gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Indeed, I did,” he replied without a hint of remorse.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but Thranduil remained unyielding under her ire. Charlotte sighed and then without warning, she jumped into the tub cannonball style.

When she surfaced, swiping the sodden strands of hair from her face, she froze at the look on the now drenched Elvenking’s face. It was the look a father would give his unruly child when that child had misbehaved; a look that clearly promised punishment. _Whether or not she would enjoy that punishment was yet to be seen._

The silence stretched before them and she held her breath, waiting.

“For such a diminutive being, you have managed to cause quite the splash,” he said slowly, breaking the tension.

She grinned impishly at him. “It was the only way to get back at you.”

“Was it now?” he intoned as he started wading towards her. Charlotte quickly glanced over her shoulder but saw that the edge was too far away, and she would not be quick enough to escape him.

She turned around and yelped at the elf suddenly mere inches from her.

“Uh…hi,” she said innocently.

Thranduil stared down his nose at her, his face unreadable. Charlotte had to keep her arms and legs moving to keep afloat, but her eyes never left his.

He lowered his head, a lazy smile curling his lips. “I should punish you for that.”

“And what, exactly, was my crime?” she retorted, her heart beating rapidly in her chest - not from fear, but rather from anticipation.

“Insubordination to your King,” he murmured, his hands now finding their way to her hips and drawing her closer until naked skin brushed tantalizingly against naked flesh. Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck, her breath catching in her throat when his hands wandered to her thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist.

“You’re not my King,” she pointed out, her eyes now heavy lidded and her lips slightly parted as she waited for him to kiss her.

“When we bond and are officially married, you shall be my Queen. And I shall be your King.”

“Hmm, marriage doesn’t automatically equate to subordination.”

“If only it were that simple,” he bemoaned, causing Charlotte to smile at his mock ire.

Thranduil stared at her, becoming solemn as he thought back to how very close he had come to losing her, and he knew that this gift that had been bestowed to them was not one to be wasted. He wanted to witness every sunrise and sunset with her by his side, hand-in-hand, and never let go.

He closed the distance, capturing her lips in a slow and sensual kiss, pouring all of his feelings into the moment. The air became electrically charged between them, solidifying to a more weighted and deeper intention.

Charlotte pulled back, gasping for air, and stared back at Thranduil. _Something pivotal was about to happen. She could sense it._ In the electrifying pools of his eyes she glimpsed the restraint that he always held onto with an iron-clad resolve quickly dissolve.

“Bond with me,” he whispered.

Charlotte stared at him, unblinking as the weight of his request hit her. They had discussed bonding previously, and it had been something she had agreed to…but that was before.

The memory of witnessing but a glimpse of his crippling grief when he had clutched at her tightly in Lothlorien, and especially when he had confessed that he had thought she had been lost to him forever, came to the surface. She was now starting to understand the extent of this bond and what it would do to him. She loved him too much to put him through that again.

“Thranduil, losing me once almost killed you. If we bond…” she swallowed hard and lowered her eyes, unable to meet his penetrating gaze. “I have maybe fifty years left with you before I die. I could not bear the thought of you fading from grief…if we formed this bond…” She let her sentence trail off, her heart constricting. _No, she would not be the cause of his suffering and his ultimate death._

There was a prolonged pause and then Thranduil lifted his hand, brushing her damp hair back behind her ear. “You don’t have fifty years, Charlotte.”

Charlotte head snapped up and she frowned in confusion. “What?”

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor, but there was no mistaking that there was something almost guarded in the way he looked at her.

“You now have eternity with me.”

Charlotte blinked once, and then twice, his words making absolutely no sense at all to her. “What?” she asked slowly. _Honestly, she was starting to sound like the Tenth Doctor!_

“When you were pulled into Middle Earth, the Valar made some changes…”

“What kind of changes?” she asked, her words slow and precise.

Thranduil could sense the tension thrumming through her body as her mood shifted. Into what territory, he could not gauge.

“You have been given the lifespan of an elf. You are, essentially…” Thranduil paused. “…Immortal.”

She stared back at him in muted shock, completely floored by this startling revelation.

“Immortal?” she finally croaked.

Thranduil nodded once, guardedly gauging her reaction as the silence stretched between them.

“Why…why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

_Was that an accusation he glimpsed in her hazel depths?_

“I thought it best until you were safe within my Halls. Traversing the wilderness didn’t seem like an appropriate place to break such news”

Confliction warred within her. Part of her should have been elated at such news, but another part was horrified. Terrified. _What would an immortal life mean for her? Would she lose her humanity, the part of her that made her who she was deep down inside? The thought of immortality might be appealing to some, but over the course of millennium, would she be the same person as she was now? She knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Thranduil, this much she was certain of. But immortality was a huge thing to get used to._

As she stared back at Thranduil, another thought broke through her concerns.

“I noticed some other changes…”

Thranduil’s face remained unreadable as he waited for her to tell him.

“Smell my breath,” she ordered with such suddenness that it took him aback.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Smell my breath,” she repeated.

Thranduil noted that she was dead serious.

“Whatever for?” he asked in bewilderment.

Charlotte huffed out in exasperation. “It’s just I noticed, right before we entered Mirkwood, that my teeth felt clean. Exceptionally clean. Far more clean than they should have been, especially after travelling for seven days without brushing.”

Thranduil’s brows furrowed together.

“And as I undressed,” Charlotte continued, “I noticed that there wasn’t any stubble on my legs.”

His brows now shot up, almost touching his hairline. “Why would there be stubble on your legs?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. _Men, regardless of species, were all the same: oblivious._

“From shaving.”

“Women from your world _shave_ their legs?”

“Yup.”

Thranduil could not be more stunned by this revelation. He thought back to his limited dealings with humans in the past and knew a few men were dedicated to shaving their faces, though their methods required a sharp blade _. Is this what Charlotte did to her legs?_

“Whatever for?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Humans are hairier than elves, Thranduil. It is not considered attractive for women to have hair on their legs. Hence the shaving.”

“Sounds…barbaric,” he finally stated.

_He had no idea. If only he knew what type of grooming went on in other regions of the body…_

Charlotte’s features softened. “It seems I have changed. A lot. Physically, at least. Are you sure I’m not gradually morphing into a pointy-eared elf?”

Thranduil was too lost in thought to be insulted. “Galadriel did not forewarn me of such changes…”

“Is there any way to contact her and find out? Phone? Email? Skype?”

Thranduil glanced up and saw the teasing light dancing in her eyes, much to his relief. _At least she was maintaining her sense of humor through all of this._

“I will send word to her, though an answer might take a while to reach us and might not be forthcoming.”

“So, in the meantime, we wing it?”

“Wing it?”

“It means we go through this with no clue or plan.”

Thranduil stared at her for a heartbeat. “It would seem that way.”

Charlotte let out a deep sigh, though this was the answer she had expected. She met Thranduil’s gaze and could see the myriad of thoughts and emotions playing across his usually unreadable features. _He had been thrown for a loop just as much as she had._

Charlotte drew her hands up and cupped his face between her palms.

“Hey,” she soothed, drawing his attention back to the present and to her. “We’ll get through this. Together. Remember?”

His features softened at her words. “Together.”

Charlotte closed the distance and brushed her lips against his in a featherlight caress. “Through all of time,” she murmured as she pulled back. “You poor sod. You’re now stuck with me for all eternity. Having second thoughts yet?”

Thranduil’s sharp gaze locked on hers, her meaning clear in her teasing: she was coming to terms and accepting this new life and all the possibilities it represented.

His arms coiled around her more securely as he captured her lips in answer, reveling in the feel and taste of her. He deepened the kiss, yearning and craving for more, and the kindling fire now ignited to an inferno between them. Charlotte wove her fingers through his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as the urgency between them became almost unbearable. She pulled back for air and nuzzled against his neck.

“Yes,” she whispered against his heated skin.

It took a few seconds for his mind to catch up to what she was agreeing to. He pulled back to get a better look at her, searching her face for any hesitation or doubt, and found none there.

Charlotte smiled softly at him. “I will bond with you, Thranduil. My King.”


	39. Chapter 39

Thranduil maneuvered them nearer to the edge of the bathtub, never breaking from the heated kiss. His hands splayed against her back, drawing her closer against him as he deepened the kiss, his actions hinting at a deep desire to become one with her. Charlotte broke from the contact, drawing in a ragged breath as she clutched at his shoulders for support, and Thranduil used this opportunity to nuzzle her neck. Angling her head to give him better access, Charlotte closed her eyes against the waves of desire that coursed through her body, sighing with pleasure and longing.

_A week of not being with Thranduil intimately had felt like an eternity!_

Thranduil painstakingly kissed along the soft and sensitive flesh, his lips brushing against her heated skin in featherlight caresses, and elicited a low moan of desire from Charlotte. She entangled her fingers through his silky hair as a sense of urgency overtook her, and she forced Thranduil’s attention back to her. There was a momentary pause before her mouth crashed against his as she sought to deepen the kiss, parting her lips to allow him entrance.

Her back hit against the edge of the tub as their tongues caressed and warred with each other, but she barely noticed the stone edge digging into her back. Thranduil’s hands wandered lower, his fingers digging into her flesh before curling under her thighs.

There was a poignant pause, the air shimmering and electrifying between them as they stood on the edge of this moment, each eager to take the plunge.

“Take me to bed,” she murmured against his lips.

Thranduil broke from the kiss, his lips brushing just below her earlobe as he replied, “Soon. But first, I would like to fulfil a little fantasy of my own.”

Charlotte gasped as he gently nibbled on her earlobe. “Oh? And how long have you had this fantasy?”

“As soon as I saw you standing naked on the edge of the bathtub.”

Her pulse quickened at the endless possibilities that swarmed her mind, but she didn’t have much time to think about it as Thranduil’s hands reluctantly left her thighs and in a swift motion he gripped her waist and hoisted her out of the water, sitting Charlotte on the edge of the tub.

Charlotte’s breath caught at the dark promise swirling in those electrifying blue depths as he started to part her knees, exposing her in the most intimate way to him.

Thranduil was tall enough to stand in the tub, with only the water reaching mid-chest, and it was apparent that he was going to use this to his advantage to fulfill this little fantasy of his. His eyes locked onto hers as he slowly lowered his head, and a gentle bite to her inner thigh caused Charlotte to gasp.

“Lie back,” he ordered in a deep, husky voice.

“I’d prefer to watch you,” she murmured, but compromised by leaning back on her elbows. “In fact, I would like to repay the favor.”

Another nip to the sensitive flesh on her inner thigh caused her to moan and lose her train of thought.

Thranduil soothed the hurt with his tongue and glanced back up at her, a shadow of a smirk playing on his features.

“I would like that. But tonight, all I want to do is get lost in the taste and feel of you, Charlotte.”

Charlotte was about to protest but paused when she glimpsed something flittering across his porcelain features. Thranduil needed this. He needed to be in control and claim her. He needed to reassure himself that she was real and that she was completely his in every way. And, most importantly, he needed to erase the memory of what had happened, as well as the grief he had endured, by getting lost in this moment with her.

Charlotte leaned forward, capturing his face between her palms and laying a tender kiss upon his lips.

“I am all yours, Thranduil. Tonight, and every other night that follows.”

Thranduil stared back at her, his features solemn, but she noted the relief that flashed through his cerulean eyes at her understanding. She caressed his cheek before leaning back on her elbows again.

“Make me completely yours, my King.”

A salacious smile crept on his face. “As my Lady commands.”

Before Charlotte could form a cheeky response, Thranduil parted her curls and she let out a wanton moan as he dragged his tongue over her most intimate area, his heavy-lidded gaze never leaving hers.

It was too intimate, too much for her to bear, and Charlotte threw her head back, her eyes shut tight as she gave herself over to him.

“Look at me, Charlotte,” he said, his voice firm and commanding.

Charlotte blinked open her eyes and glanced down at him. She swallowed hard at the hunger and desire swirling within the depths of his eyes, making the ethereal light within more electrifying than usual.

Satisfied that her attention was now fully on him, Thranduil lowered his head once more, and soon Charlotte was panting and moaning as his tongue and nimble fingers worked their magic, cresting her to a new height of ecstasy and passion.

Unable to bear the building orgasm that was threatening to explode within her, Charlotte collapsed on her back, her arms flung wide and her hands scrabbling for purchase. The deep coil low in her belly foretold that she was close, and she shut her eyes tightly against the sensation, her back arching as she reached her peak.

Her orgasm ripped through her, almost violent in its outburst, and she cried out Thranduil’s name, not caring if the whole kingdom heard her.

She lay on the stone floor, panting and gasping for air and her body feeling like an over sensitized quivering mess as she tried to relearn how to breathe again.

So lost was she in the afterglow of her orgasm that she did not notice Thranduil climbing out of the tub. She could barely respond as soft velvet lips brushed against hers, tentatively asking permission. Charlotte cracked open her eyes to find the Elvenking hovering over her, looking thoroughly smug with himself. She raised a shaky hand and rested it against his smooth and strong jawline, and kissed him back with the same amount of tenderness he was bestowing upon her.

Thranduil’s arms snaked under her and in a fluid motion he rose to his feet with Charlotte bundled in his arms. Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head tiredly against his shoulder as he carried her out of the bathroom and headed straight to the bed, where he laid her down with gentle care.

Charlotte sighed as she sank into the luxuriously soft covers and wondered for a brief moment if Thranduil would let her have a little nap before they continued. _Knowing him and his extensive appetite and stamina, probably not._

“Galion has been kind enough to bring us some food,” he murmured, brushing her damp hair from her face as he placed a soft, but chaste kiss upon her lips.

As if on cue, her stomach let out an audible growl, and Charlotte realized how famished she was. Especially after that bathroom episode. The Lembas bread had worked wonders in sustaining them for seven days, but now she really craved a hearty meal.

Charlotte noted that Thranduil was watching her with amusement dancing in those hypnotic eyes. He climbed off the bed with liquid grace and Charlotte watched with undisguised appreciation as he made his way to the table, gloriously naked and completely unashamed. The sight suddenly chased away her fatigue and hunger and she rolled onto her side, resting her head in her hand.

“Food can wait.”

Thranduil lifted the lid on the tray and the tantalizing aroma of the meal suddenly made her mouth water. He glanced over his shoulder; a knowing look written on his features.

“You need to eat, little one.”

“But…” she started to protest, though it was only half-hearted.

“Or I can simply finish this delicious meal all by myself…” he mused to himself, stepping aside so that she could see the two dishes garnished with succulent meat drenched in rich brown gravy, golden roasted potatoes, fresh green beans and juicy carrots. Another platter of fresh buns sat to the side, promising to be fluffy and moist.

Her stomach gave another hungry growl and Thranduil smirked to himself as he picked up his glass of Dorwinion that had been pushed aside earlier for other pursuits. He took an appreciative sip, the smooth, strong liquid gliding down his throat like molten velvet.

Charlotte licked her lips and noticed that Thranduil was watching her over the brim of his crystal wine glass. She blushed furiously, embarrassed that food was now monopolizing her attention rather than the image of Thranduil standing naked before her.

Thranduil replaced his glass on the table and strode towards the closed door set to the side of the room, stepping in with a sense of purpose. A few moments later he emerged, swathed in a silver-grey robe made of the finest silk, the material shimmering and flowing with his movements. He made his way to the bed and handed Charlotte a crimson colored robe that was just as opulent as his own.

“It will be a bit big on you, but I shall have some clothes made for you tomorrow that will be more in accordance with your diminutive stature.”

Charlotte took the proffered item, marveling how light it felt. She clambered off the bed, her legs still feeling like jelly, and shrugged on the robe, tying it securely around her middle. She had to roll back the sleeves and as she glanced down at her feet, she noted with exasperation that the material had pooled around her feet considerably. _The curse of being short! No, in this case it was that Thranduil was just so damn tall._

She grabbed a fistful of material and lifted it enough so that she wouldn’t trip over it as she made her way to the table. She studiously ignored the way Thranduil’s lips twitched as he refrained from grinning at the sight.

She sat down in the comfy armchair, and Thranduil seated himself opposite her. Her gaze flitted over the spread before her and she noted with relief that there was but one knife and fork. She would have been completely lost if she had been forced to use a multitude of utensils in one sitting.

“Looks delicious,” she remarked, inhaling deeply.

“That’s because it was not made by you.”

She scowled at him, causing Thranduil to openly laugh at her consternation. Charlotte could not be angry with him, though, especially when he was displaying such a carefree and contented mood.

Thranduil poured Charlotte her a glass of wine and soon they tucked into the meal, the likes of which she had never tasted. Charlotte had to desperately refrain from licking her plate clean afterwards! The meat had practically melted in her mouth, and the vegetables were delectable beyond compare. She knew for a fact that vegetables bought at the store in her world had never tasted like this. _Or maybe she had just been cooking them wrong all these years…_

“So, who is Galion?” she asked as she took a sip of wine, almost spluttering at how potent it was.

“In a sense, you could say he’s my butler,” Thranduil replied, pushing his empty plate to the side.

Charlotte’s eyes widened at this. _A butler?! An actual, real to goodness butler?!_

Thranduil continued, either not noticing her disbelief, or choosing to ignore it. “For all his hard work and loyalty, I, in turn, cast a blind eye when he raids my wine cellar on the odd occasion.”

Charlotte snorted in a very unlady-like manner. “I think it’s more than the odd occasion, especially if he has to put up with your demands on a daily basis.”

Instead of being insulted, Thranduil merely grinned. “True. I even join him occasionally. There have been a few times where I have woken up in the wine cellar and Gilion has been sound asleep, snoring in the corner and a glass still clutched in his hand.”

Charlotte shook her head. It was hard to imagine Thranduil getting black-out drunk and passing out. She would have never believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it firsthand when Carl had gotten him tipsy on moonshine. And now, after sampling the Dorwinion, it was very easy to believe.

The thought of Carl sent a pang through her heart. She wondered if a thousand years from now she would even remember him, or would he just be fading thought; a grain of sand blown away in the winds of time and memory?

A warm hand curled around hers and she glanced up to see understanding shadowing his features. Thranduil raised her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss upon her skin.

Charlotte blinked back the tears. It would seem that she, too, would seek out the refuge of Thranduil’s arms tonight to chase away the fears and uncertainty of the future, and the obstacles she now faced with this new life in this new world.

Before she could think about it, Charlotte rose from her seat and made her way over to Thranduil’s side. She settled onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder and her palm placed over his heart, feeling the reassuring and sure beat. Thranduil wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and letting her process her thoughts and emotions. He would not pry but would rather offer his silent support and solace. In her eyes, he would always be her anchor; the one she could cling to as they weathered this storm together.

Charlotte raised her head and sought his lips, letting his essence wash over her and chase away the uncertainty. She knew the time would come when the reality of her situation would crash down on her. But tonight she was certain of this, of him. She would become one with Thranduil, both in body and soul.

She shifted her position so that she was now straddling him and cupped his face between her palms as she deepened the kiss. Thranduil offered up no resistance and seemed just as eager as her for this union and completion.

Clutching Charlotte to him, Thranduil rose from the chair and carried her over to the bed, never breaking from the kiss.

“I want to be on top,” she murmured against his lips.

She thought Thranduil was going to object, especially when he pulled back and stared at her for a heartbeat that stretched between them.

Then a lazy smile crept on his face and he merely stated, “As my Lady wishes.”

Thranduil sat down on the edge of the bed and Charlotte was keenly aware of how intimately they were pressed together with only the thin material of their robes separating them.

She captured his lips, reveling as his hands wandered over her back, inching lower and lower until her cupped her bum, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. She rocked her hips, causing a delicious friction between them and eliciting a deep moan from them both.

Charlotte broke from the kiss with a ragged gasp, her head heady from lust and desire, and as she stared at him, she knew she would never get enough of him. Her hands skimmed over the front of his robe; her eyes fixated with the pearly, smooth white skin peeking through the silver-grey material. She lowered her head and trailed her tongue over his skin, licking upwards until she reached his collar bone. The pulse beating rapidly on his neck, as well as the feel of him between her legs, told her that he was very much affected by her ministrations.

As she kissed and nipped along his neck, her hands wandered lower until she reached the tie of his robe. She kissed her way upwards to his ear, running her tongue along the sensitive tip as she fumbled with the knot between them. A sharp intake of air, along with the sudden tight grip on her bum, let her know that he was soon reaching his limit and she smiled smugly to herself. The tie came undone, and pressing her palms against his now exposed chest, Charlotte pushed Thranduil back onto the bed.

She leaned forwards and captured his lips with a burning passion before sitting back up. Thranduil pushed himself up, resting on his elbows as he eyed her the way a hunter would watch its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. But he refrained from acting on his urges and let Charlotte take control.

She slowly undid the tie of her robe and watched as his eyes darkened with desire as she shrugged the silky material off. As she stared down at him the energy shifted between them, and Charlotte felt the love they shared fortify and deepen. They were now standing on a precipice; a moment that would forever seal their fates. A moment that would bind them for all eternity.

Thranduil seemed to sense this shift, for he sat up and encircled his arms around her, his hands splayed against her naked back as he sought her lips in a slow and sensual kiss. The kiss intensified with love, yearning and devotion; powerful, yet subtle with its force. Charlotte cupped his face between her palms, committing herself and sealing her fate with his.

Heated skin pressed against heated skin, their slow and erotic movements creating a tantalizing friction as their bodies conformed together in the most intimate places.

Thranduil’s hand snaked between them, and Charlotte raised herself slightly to let him position himself at her entrance as she clutched at his shoulders for support. She moaned into his mouth as she slowly lowered herself onto him, gasping at the sensation of him filling her, and she breathed in deeply as she allowed her body to adjust to him. Then she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his and witnessed the profound love and devotion that he held for her plainly illuminated on his features.

“My love,” he breathed out in a reverent prayer.

Their lips molded together as they slowly moved together in an intimate dance of love and slow-burning passion. The moment, poignant and beautiful in its simplicity, bought tears to her eyes, especially when she saw the same emotions mirrored deep within his soul.

Thranduil arms tightened around her and he rolled them over, the kiss never breaking nor their sensual dance as they moved together as one.

It was subtle at first, but she became distinctly aware of a warmth enveloping her like the golden rays of the sun. This warm glow gradually seeped into her skin and burrowed deeper, dissolving and becoming one with her body. Charlotte gasped against his mouth at the sensation as she realized this familiarity she was feeling was his fëa. Something stirred, encircling deep within her; a new sensation she could not place nor name. The stirring gradually built, the binding strengthening. She realized with a start that Thranduil was forming the bond between them.

Thranduil sensed her hesitation and pulled back enough to look down at her.

“Is that you I’m feeling?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“It…it feels beautiful…and warm…and safe.” She suddenly cupped his face. “Don’t stop,” she urged before kissing him in both consent and yearning for completion.

Thranduil thrust into her and she cried out against his mouth. His hand sought hers, their fingers entwining as both their bodies and the bond cried out for completion.

Charlotte cried out as her orgasm ripped through her, and at the same moment the bond solidified; a golden core implanted into her very soul, burning bright and pure. Thranduil’s hand tightened around hers as his own orgasm consumed him, her name on his lips.

Thranduil collapsed on her and they clutched at each, both struggling to relearn how to breathe again. In the back of her mind, Charlotte became vaguely aware of a secondary emotion that was not hers. It whispered of contentment, love and hope, and she realized with a start that she was experiencing the rippling effects of Thranduil’s emotions and feelings. The magnitude of his love for her bought tears to her eyes and she clutched tighter at him like a lifeline.

After a few minutes had passed, Thranduil rolled onto his back and pulled Charlotte close against him, his arms protectively encircling her. Charlotte snuggled against him, resting her head against his chest and let his steady heartbeat lull her into a deep slumber.

No words needed to be spoken – their quiet contentment, as well as the newly formed bond, spoke volumes of their unequivocal love. Their fates were now intricately entwined like a tapestry, and as Charlotte lay asleep curled against him, Thranduil could not imagine it any other way. Nor did he want to.

Tonight had been purely theirs, but in the morn he knew there was going to be new obstacles to face. But he did not dwell on it and, instead, let her warm and pliant body, as well as the feeling of their bond, ease him to sleep.


	40. Chapter 40

Thranduil’s eyes fluttered open as the dawn crested the horizon, bathing the lands nestled at foothill of the mountainous kingdom in a golden shimmering light, though it did little to chase away the distinct chill of winter.

_It’s time to get up_ , he reflected with no amount of disinclination.

Thranduil glanced down at the peacefully sleeping Charlotte, who was currently snuggled close against his side. Her arm was curled over his chest, her palm resting straight over his heart, and Thranduil watched contentedly as soft breaths fluttered from her slightly parted lips. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, carefully tucking it behind her ear, and smiled to himself as Charlotte nuzzled closer, mumbling something incoherent in her sleep.

A feeling of peace washed over him.

But he soon let out a weary sigh, knowing that he was going to have to give up the warmth of his bed, as well as the human who occupied it, and tend to his duties as King. For now, though, he would allow himself but a few quiet moments to enjoy this respite.

But this moment was short lived, and it was with great reluctance that he climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake Charlotte in the process. He paused when she stirred slightly, and he wondered if he had time enough to return back to bed and get lost in her for but a few moments.

_Surely the kingdom could wait…_

Charlotte’s hand reached out blindly and Thranduil grinned broadly as she grabbed his pillow bought it close to her chest, cuddling into like a child would a comfort blanket as they slept.

Thranduil tore himself from the sight, knowing full well that if he did not leave now, he would happily remain in bed all day, seeking all kinds of carnal pleasures from his bond mate.

He paused at the thought, his hand curled around the doorknob of his closet.

_His bond mate…_

He could sense the sleepy contentment radiating from Charlotte like the pure rays of the sun, and he realized that for the first time in his life, he felt complete.

_She had been the missing piece all along._

Thranduil pushed down his impulse to return to her side and entered his closet to get dressed. He selected a silver robe infused with cornflower blue stitching and designs, giving the elvish garment a starlight effect. He pulled on tall, dark leather boots that molded perfectly to his feet and blended in perfectly with his leggings. Lastly, he donned a matching cape that flared around his ankles, the rich material dragging over the floor.

He straightened, his keen eyes scrutinizing the immense closet. All items of clothing were neatly arranged, with each cloak, cape, tunic, and other items of clothing in its allotted place and hanging in an orderly fashion.

_Some space was going to need to be made for Charlotte’s clothes, once they were tailored._

Thranduil exited the closet and strode towards the vanity. He picked up his hairbrush made of the finest horsehair and ran it through his silken hair until it shone like star fire. Next he picked up his crown of intricately crafted twigs, the ends rising in sharp points and the crown itself infused with leaves of brilliant red.

Placing the mantle that symbolized his title, as well as his burden, upon his head Thranduil gave himself a cursory once over in the mirror, satisfied that outwardly he was the epitome of regality and royalty.

Thranduil paused as he strode past the bed, his gaze lingering on Charlotte with longing.

_It wouldn’t take much to crawl in alongside her, draw her close and let his hands wander over her soft and warm flesh…_

Instead, he bent at the waist and placed a featherlight kiss upon her rosy cheek. Straightening with a great amount of resolve, Thranduil turned on his heel and made his way to the heavy doors and stepped out, quietly closing them behind him.

Galion, his ever-faithful butler, was standing off to the side with a look of uncertainty marring his handsome features.

In all his years of servitude, Galion had never witnessed another maiden sharing the Elvenking’s bed, and now the ellon was quite unsure about what protocol to follow. Usually he would assist his King with his morning preparations but given the unusualness of this situation he knew his presence would be greatly unwanted, and had thought it best to wait discreetly outside the doors.

“Walk with me, Galion,” Thranduil instructed as he strode down the hall. Galion was soon by his side, matching stride for stride.

“I take it that you know about our new guest?” Thranduil stated, his gaze steadfastly fixed straight ahead.

“News has travelled fast, my King.”

This did not surprise Thranduil in the least. Gossip, regardless of which kingdom, was bound happen.

“Charlotte is here to stay. Indefinitely.” This was uttered with a sense of finality and Galion, wisely, did not question it. Though, there was something he needed to clarify.

“In…your chambers?” Galion asked hesitantly.

 “Yes.”

Galion nodded once, and Thranduil stopped, turning abruptly to face the other elf.

“Bring Feren to my study. There is something of importance I need to discuss with the both of you.”

Galion gave a bow of his head, his chestnut hair falling over his shoulders, but Thranduil was already striding away, his back ramrod straight and his robe flapping around his ankles at his purposeful movements. Galion did not waste another moment and went to find the Captain of the Guard.

 

ooOoo

 

Knowing that their King did not like to be kept waiting, it didn’t take long for the two to arrive before the heavy oak doors that led to Thranduil’s study.

Galion and Feren shared a look before Galion stepped forward and knocked on the solid gleaming wood.

“Enter,” came the authoritive command of their King.

Galion entered, followed shortly by Feren, who made sure to close the door firmly behind them.

Thranduil stood at the tall arched window with his hands clasped behind his arrow-straight back, his gaze fixated on the outside lands of his mountainous domain.

He turned in a graceful movement and both Feren and Galion gave a respectful bow of their heads.

“I have a matter of great importance that I need to discuss with the both of you,” Thranduil stated, getting straight to the point as he strode towards his grand oak desk that was polished to a high gleam. He paused but remained standing as he turned his penetrative gaze to the two elves standing before him, their features schooled as they listened intently.

Thranduil breathed in deeply through his nose before continuing. “By now, the both of you know about Charlotte, as well as the fact that she is to remain here in the Woodland Realm.”

The two, in question, gave a simple nod.

“I intend to make her my Queen.”

Feren startled and opened his mouth, but a swift nudge to the side by Galion’s elbow, as well as an imperceptible shake of the head from the butler, told him it would be unwise to question their King’s intentions.

Thranduil narrowed his fractionally but continued. “Her situation is unique.” He leaned against the desk, folding his arms in front of him. “She comes from a far-off land where customs are…very different from our own. Jarringly different. This is where I need your help, Galion.”

“Of course, my King,” Galion answered unwaveringly. He was brimming with curiosity, though, about the mysterious appearance of Charlotte. Casting his mind back, he could not recall where Thranduil would have had an opportunity to meet her, let alone court her. But he knew his King acutely, and doubted Thranduil would make a decision lightly, or without careful deliberation and thought.

“I want you to find an someone who will help Charlotte in navigating her day-to-day life within the kingdom. Someone who is patient and understanding, as well as trustworthy. Charlotte will need to learn about our way of life, and she will need a guiding hand.”

Galion cast his mind on a certain elleth, and he gave the Elvenking a small confidant smile. “It shall be done, my King.”

_She would also need training on how to behave as a Queen, but that could wait for the moment. One step at a time, especially when it came to Charlotte._

“Good. I’ll also need you to send the court seamstress to meet with me later on, and ensure space is cleared in my closet for Charlotte’s clothing. In the meantime, find an appropriate garment for her to wear until her wardrobe is completed.” Thranduil paused, thinking about his next course of action. “And I’ll also need you to set up a meeting with my advisors.”

That thought alone was enough to bring on a splitting headache. His eyes lingered on the bottle of Dorwinion.

_Just a glass…_

“I’ll get right on it,” Galion said with a bow.

Thranduil, satisfied that Galion complete these tasks set before him, now turned to Feren. “Charlotte’s safety is of deep concern to me, Feren.”

Feren gave a slow nod, his body eerily still. “You would like for me to guard her?”

“No, what I want you to do is something much worse.” A mischievous light twinkled in the Elvenking’s eyes as he stood tall and proud before the Captain of the Guard.

Feren swallowed, the movement imperceptible, but Thranduil noted it.

“I want you to train her. Teach her to fight and defend herself.”

Feren visibly paled. Protecting the love interest of the King was one thing, but training her was pure suicide. If she happened to get hurt during one of their sessions, Feren was certain that his King would reinstate beheading as a punishment. And he would be first in line.

“I have already trained her in the basics, but I will be unable to resume our practice sessions until I have dealt with the aftermath of the battle we have just fought at Dale.”

Feren frowned at Thranduil’s words. _When had he possibly trained her? As far as he knew, Thranduil hadn’t left the kingdom for quite some time, and no visitors had entered, albeit the dwarves._

Feren glanced over at Galion, who had an equal look of confusion written on his features.

Thranduil’s sharp eyes flickered from one to the other, as though he were reading and assessing their thoughts. The reason he had summoned them before him was because he knew he could trust them irrevocably. Galion was loyal, both in actions as well as keeping certain secrets to himself. Feren, for all the years he had served in the Guard, had shown traits of integrity that Thranduil greatly admired. He knew he could entrust them both with Charlotte’s true identity.

Thranduil eyed the two elves before him, weighing up his next course of action.

“Charlotte is not from out world.”

Two pair of eyes, both differing degrees of brown, blinked back at him in confusion. Thranduil sighed and rounded his desk, snatching up the bottle of Dorwinion along the way. _This was going to take a while to explain._

ooOoo

 

Charlotte yawned and stretched out in the impossibly large bed, reveling in the feel of the luxurious sheets against her naked body.

She cracked open her eyes and a flash of disappointed lanced through her when she noticed that Thranduil’s side of the bed was bare and cold, hinting that he had been gone for quite some time now.

She sat up, leaning back on her elbows as her gaze wandered around the room that oozed of wealth and impeccable taste.

_Thranduil’s bedroom._

She wondered, with a sense of trepidation, how she was supposed to integrate into this lifestyle? All this lavish grandeur was not who she was.

A soft knock on the door startled her out of her musings and Charlotte glanced wildly around, unsure of what to do?

_Was she supposed to say ‘Enter’, or did she go and open the door herself? What if it was just a cursory knock and whoever was on the other end walked in shortly after._

Charlotte glanced down, panic seizing her when she realized that she was still as naked as the day she was born!

“Just give me a minute!” she cried out.

She scrambled out of the bed, almost falling to the floor in her haste, and frantically searched for the robe Thranduil had given her last night.

_Where the hell was it?!_

She almost let out a triumphant cry when she at last found it under the bed.

_How on Earth…er, Middle Earth, did it get there?_

Scrambling to her feet, Charlotte hastily donned the robe, making sure to double knot it around the middle.

_Don’t want to accidently flash any of the servants. Servants…what an odd thought…_

Another knock broke her from her scrambled thoughts and Charlotte hastily smoothed down her unruly hair, inwardly groaning as she knew it was of no use and her hair would remain a stubborn mess.

“Um…come in,” she called out nervously, clutching the robe tighter around her.

The door opened and in strode a tall elf (who was she kidding – they were all tall in her eyes) with russet colored hair that cascaded over his shoulders in silky sheets, and the sides tied back in thin braids. He had an open and honest face that radiated warmth and kindness, and his chocolate brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave her a friendly smile. He wore dark leggings paired with knee high tan boots, and a simple burgundy colored tunic interwoven with golden thread.

Another elf followed behind him and Charlotte couldn’t help but gawp at the pair. The elleth was willowy in stature; tall and graceful, both in poise and grace. Her chestnut hair flowed in soft waves down her back, the sides pinned back in an intricate braid that Charlotte had no hope of replicating. She had a pleasantly rounded face with a pert little nose that was upturned at the end. Amber eyes stared back at her, framed by impossibly long and dark lashes. The elleth held herself with a certain sense of guardedness, though curiosity shone from her features.

Galion gave a bow, and the elleth curtsied.

Charlotte glanced behind her, puzzling at who they were bowing to? Suddenly she realized that they were bowing to her!

_What the fu…?!_

“Why are you bowing to me?” she asked, her voice slightly high pitched.

They both straightened and it was Galion who answered. “My Lady, you are betrothed to our King. It is only befitting that we show our respect to you.”

_Betrothed…oh, he meant engaged. Hold up! She and Thranduil weren’t engaged? Or were they?_

The sudden memory of Thranduil mentioning that, in his eyes, they were already married came to the forefront.

_Well shit…_

“Um, there’s really no need...” _How the hell was she supposed to ever get used to others bowing to her as though she were royalty?! Oh…she was considered royalty now, wasn’t she?_

Galion seemed slightly amused, though, to his credit, he hid it well. The elleth, on the other hand, was staring at Charlotte with a certain amount of shrewdness, almost as though she were sizing Charlotte up.

Galion stepped forward. “My Lady, I am known as Galion, butler to King Thranduil. I would like to introduce you to Maerwen. She has been entrusted to see to all your needs, as well as to show you around the kingdom.”

Maerwen inclined her head graciously, and it was only then that Charlotte noted that she had a garment clutched in her hand. Maerwen glided forwards, her midnight blue dress rustling at the movement.

“I think it best that we see you bathed and properly dressed before you eat breakfast, my Lady,” she said, her tone no-nonsense and straight to business. Maerwen was clearly diligent in her duties, and Charlotte sensed that this one conformed to the firm-but-fair mold.

“King Thranduil asked me to deliver the message that he is, regretfully, tied up in royal duties, but will join in your chambers for supper tonight, my Lady,” Galion stated.

Disappointment coursed through her, but she gave a nod of understanding. Galion gave her a sympathetic look in return before he bowed and exited the room with long strides.

Charlotte was suddenly left alone with Maerwen, the silence stretching out before them like a taut elastic band.

“Shall I prepare a bath for you, my Lady?” the elleth asked, draping the garment over the back of the armchair and turning to look at Charlotte expectantly.

“Um…sure. I mean, yes please,” Charlotte replied, eager to escape the elf’s penetrating gaze.

Maerwen stood silently, expectantly, almost as though she were waiting for Charlotte to do something.

“What?” Charlotte asked, fidgeting.

Maerwen’s finely sculpted features softened, and she spoke patiently as one would to a child when explaining something.

“The bath is continuously fed by a hot spring.”

“So?” Charlotte’s eyes suddenly bugged out of her head as realization hit her. “You’re planning on giving me a bath?!”

“I have been instructed…”

Charlotte shook her head. “Nope! Not happening.”

“I suppose I can simply leave you to figure it out on your own…” Maerwen intoned, putting in Charlotte’s mind the image of Mrs. Wilson, her strict History teacher from high school whom nobody dared mess with.

Charlotte thought about all the numerous vials awaiting in the bathroom and realized that none were labelled, and she hadn’t a clue which ones were shampoo and which ones were soap.

_Did they even have shampoo in Middle Earth?_

“Can’t you just…show me what to use for my hair, and what to use to clean…other bits?” she squeaked.

Maerwen arched a brow. “Other bits?”

Charlotte blushed furiously, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her. Suddenly Maerwen was standing in front of her, a cool hand placed on her shoulder, and Charlotte glanced up in surprise at this small act of consolation. She glimpsed understanding and consideration shining from the amber depths of Maerwen’s gaze.

“It has been explained to me that where you are from, things are very different. I am here to help you, my Lady, but I can only do so if you let me.”

Charlotte sucked in a resigned breath. In the back of her mind, she was sure Thranduil was having a good chuckled at her expense.

“Okay,” she agreed. Maerwen gave her a reserved smile and dropped her hand back to her side.

As Charlotte made her way to the bathroom, she paused as a thought hit her. “You’re not going to join me in the bathtub, are you?”

Maerwen pressed her lips together; Charlotte guessed it was to stop from laughing.

With a small shake of her head, she replied. “No. Though I have been specifically instructed to tend to your hair.”

Charlotte’s hand flew up to her hair. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing.”

This was said far too quickly, and Charlotte narrowed her eyes at the elleth. _This one, for all her pretense of strict and conformed composure, had a mischievous streak lurking below the surface._

Charlotte made her way to the bathroom, muttering something about ‘bloody elves’ and ‘L’Oréal hair’.

 

ooOoo

 

Maerwen walked alongside Charlotte, acting as a sort of protective shield from the curious glances the human was receiving from the other elves as they made their way down long and wide passages. Charlotte’s initial assessment of the elleth was proving to be correct: she was firm but fair, aloof yet kind, and was proving to be protective of her charge, albeit in a reserved and quiet manner.

She would divert Charlotte’s attention to something of interest when she felt that the enquiring gazes from her kin was becoming too much for the human, and a sharp look from the maid was enough to ward off anyone from approaching. She had been instructed to ease Charlotte into the Woodland Realm’s way of life, and that is exactly what she intended to do.

Charlotte was dressed in a crimson red dress and a matching cloak, something she had grumbled to no end about, but had finally relented when Maerwen said there was naught else for her to wear until the seamstress had finished making clothes for her.

Charlotte had surmised that there would be a lot of dresses in her future. She was starting o long for her fuzzy garish pajamas, jeans and sweatpants.

The dress itself was beautifully made and quite comfortable despite the material being thick to ward of the winter chill. Charlotte had just been relieved that there was no corset. Her relief had quickly turned south, though, when Maerwen approached her with a roll of bandages after her bath, stating that she needed to bind her breasts. Charlotte had stated firmly, and under no circumstances, that this was going to happen. Her exact words had been more colorful and crude in nature, but it had had the desired effect and the elleth let her be.

So, instead, Maerwen concentrated on her hair, working oils into the thick waves and combing out the knots. Charlotte had blinked in surprise afterwards at the transformation. Gone was the frizzy mess and in its place was now soft, tamable waves that brushed against her shoulders. This was enough to make her almost forgive the elf for trying to bind her breasts. Almost.

They had now walked quite extensively through numerous hallways, sticking mainly to the less congested part of the palace, and Charlotte knew it was going to take quite a while before she was able to navigate her way around the kingdom on her own. But as overwhelming as it all was, she could not deny the ethereal beauty that surrounded her at every turn and openly gaped in awe.

They had returned briefly to Thranduil’s room, where Galion had lunch waiting for her, and afterwards Maerwen had resumed acting as her tour guide. By her calculations, it was now late afternoon, and Charlotte was ready to call it a day and spend the rest of the evening with a certain blonde-haired elf.

“Is there any place in particular you would like to visit?” the elleth asked politely as they descended a lofty and winding stairway.

“Can I go and see Tallagor?” Charlotte asked, realizing with shame that the mighty moose had been briefly forgotten.

“The strange animal in the stables?”

Charlotte grinned. “Yup. That would be him.”

“He has made quite the impression with the stable hands, as well as the rest of the kingdom.”

“Because he’s a moose?” Charlotte asked.

“Is that what kind of animal he is? I have never heard of such a beast.” Maerwen’s features were alight with marvel.

“Um, they’re only found where I’m from,” Charlotte answered vaguely.

“I see,” was Maerwen’s reply. “No, it’s his extensive appetite that has impressed us all.”

Charlotte’s grin widened. “Sounds like Tallagor.”

Suddenly she felt a flash of annoyance lance through her, an emotion that was distinctly not hers. She furrowed her brows and concentrated, realizing with a start that what she was sensing was coming from Thranduil through their bond. _Something had clearly pissed him off._

“Are you alright, my Lady.”

Charlotte blinked, realizing that her hand was clutching at her heart, and she quickly dropped it to her side.

“Yeah, just…adjusting. And can you please stop calling me ‘My Lady’.”

Maerwen gave a small smile and shook her head. “It would be a great show of disrespect not to call you by your title. I will not dare risk my King’s ire at such blatant insolence.”

Charlotte could not argue with that. Thranduil’s temper was scary to witness, and even more terrifying to be on the receiving end of it. And, if what she had felt through their bond was any indication, somebody was soon going to feel his wrath.

 

ooOoo

 

They entered the stables, which were situated at the back of the palace. Large looming trees, their branches and trunks twisted and knotted as they stretched skywards, surrounded the area. The sky was slowly turning a burnt orange hue as the sun started to set.

The stables were impressive, housing horses of the finest pedigree. As they walked past the lines of proud looking beasts, Charlotte thought that Tallagor must stick out like a sore thumb amongst the sleek Equidae.

They rounded a corner and a mighty and happy sounding bellow greeted her. Charlotte grinned widely at the sight of Tallagor’s head poking out from over the railing that fenced him in his enclosure. He pawed and pranced about as she neared him, and Charlotte encircled her arms around his thick neck in an affectionate hug. She pulled back, running her hand lovingly over his thick coat, murmuring words of happiness to her beloved companion.

Her gaze wandered over his enclosure and noted that he was being thoroughly pampered. His stall was scrubbed clean and a fresh bedding of hay was strewn on the floor. The water trough was filled to the brim and a barrel of oats stood to the side, already half eaten. Another trough was filled with fresh apples, carrots and greens, some of which had large chunks already bitten out of them. Charlotte glanced at the noticeably bigger belly the moose was now sporting and could quite imagine that Tallagor had taken full advantage of being spoilt in such a manner.

“Keep eating like this, and we’ll soon have to roll you out of the stables,” she commented, stroking his bulbous nose in affection. Tallagor ignored her statement and nuzzled against her hand, making deep and contented sounds.

“Maybe we can take you for a ride tomorrow. Would you like that?” she cooed.

She startled as a pair of strong arms encircled her, familiar lips ghosting against her neck. Charlotte relaxed into Thranduil’s chest, her hands coming up to cover his own.

“Let’s go for a ride now,” he murmured against her ear, eliciting a shiver from Charlotte.

Charlotte twisted in his arms to gaze up at Thranduil.

“I’ve missed you,” she said as she rested her head against his chest.

“As did I. Part of me has been tempted to order Galadriel to send us back to your world. I had forgotten how taxing politics can be.”

Charlotte pulled back enough to look up at him. “Tough day?”

“Bad enough that not even Dorwinion could ease the headache it has caused.”

“I felt you through the bond.”

“And I felt you,” he murmured reverently. His lips brushed against hers and her eyes fluttered closed as she responded to the tender kiss, reveling in the way he pulled her close to him.

Thranduil broke from the kiss first, and he gazed down at her with a soft glow alighting his features.

“You look beautiful, my love.”

“I had some help,” she replied and glanced around, only to find Maerwen was mysteriously gone.

“Middle Earth suits you.” Thranduil brought his hand up, fingering a glossy strand of her hair. “Promise me you shall never cut your hair again.”

“I doubt there are any hairdressers here, Thranduil. And even if there were, no one would dare touch my hair lest they face your wrath.”

Thranduil grinned impishly, not bothering to deny her accusation.

Charlotte rose on her tippy-toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Let’s go for that ride and find a quiet place where you can tell me what’s troubling you.”

“I’d much prefer taking you back to our room and forget about my troubles in more pleasurable pursuits.”

Tallagor let out a snort of indignation and nudged the Elvenking, none too gently.

Thranduil rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I guess it has been decided then. We shall have to go for that ride.”

Charlotte grinned and shook her head. Thranduil, for all his cool façade, really had a soft spot for the moose. And by the way Tallagor was eagerly prancing around, he knew it too.


	41. Chapter 41

Tallagor’s hooves plodding on the hard earth was the only sound that echoed through these parts of the woods. He kept up a consistent pace as he followed an unknown path with barely any noticeable guidance; either this was from instinct or from being keenly attuned to the Elvenking’s wishes as they traversed through the forest. Charlotte was guessing the latter.

Thranduil’s arm was firmly pinned around her middle as they rode through the forest, chasing the setting sun that had splashed a brilliant hue of red and orange across the sky like a painter’s easel.

Charlotte leaned back into Thranduil’s chest, delighting in the feel of him behind her as he held her close. Moments like these, she realized, were going to be few and far between now that they had returned to his kingdom and the demands that came along with it. They would have to savor every precious moment together from now on.

Thranduil pressed a kiss upon the crown of her head, his hand splaying across her belly as they enjoyed this sense of closeness. Charlotte angled her head to peer up at Thranduil, her breath catching in her throat as he stared back at her with starlit eyes, his beautifully carved features framed by his silvery-white hair. The looming trees formed a canopy of red and gold overhead, casting his image in a magical undertone.

“I never want this moment to end,” she murmured.

His features softened as he took in her true meaning, and he lowered his head, brushing his lips against her own in a featherlight caress.

“Then it shall not. We’ll make tonight last forever,” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over her lips before he captured them in a tender kiss that conveyed the conviction of his words.

Breaking from the kiss, he issued a low command to the moose. Tallagor instantly obeyed, his speed increasing.

“Where are we going?” Charlotte asked.

“A place I oft go when I need peace and respite,” he replied.

“I take it you go there often.”

“More than I care to admit.”

Charlotte nodded, more to herself. It was understandable that Thranduil would need a place from time to time to escape the manacles of being a King.

Tallagor’s long, spindly legs carried them with ease to their destination. His movements, after a while, gradually slowed down and then they were suddenly in a clearing.

The area was surrounded on all sides by the twisted trunks of the ash white trees that grew in the Woodland Realm, and in the center was pond, it’s undisturbed surface reflective like an obsidian mirror. The yellowed grass that carpeted the ground shone like spun gold as the sun cast it’s rays upon it before it dipped below the horizon.

Strangely, the air was slightly warmer here, as though the icy claws of winter were unable to penetrate the protective bubble encasing this area.

Thranduil dismounted with fluid grace and helped Charlotte from Tallagor’s back. As he lowered her, his hands left their place on her waist and his arms slowly encircled her, drawing her close against him. Her heart started to increase in speed as anticipation coursed through her, and Charlotte rose on her tippy toes, snaking her arms around his neck as she sought his lips. They stood there, simply as two lovers utterly lost in in each other. Nothing else mattered.

The sudden sound of loud, noisy slurping cut through the tranquil silence, and both Thranduil and Charlotte glanced over to the pond where Tallagor was drinking quite sloppily, unawares that he had disturbed a tender moment.

“You, my friend, need to learn some manners,” Thranduil commented dryly.

Tallagor turned his head in their direction, his dark eyes reflecting that he did not give a damn and, giving a shake of his head, resumed his drinking.

Charlotte chuckled and took Thranduil’s hand in her own, leading him towards the pond. Lily pads floated on the mirror-like surface, and fireflies emerged to dance around them, their bellies softly glowing like tiny beacons. Charlotte breathed deeply, immersing herself into the magic that rippled through this world and all the beauty, great and small, that was to be found within.

“It’s peaceful,” she stated with awe, her gaze taking in everything. She could quite imagine Thranduil coming here, sitting back against that boulder next to the pond as his elk grazed contentedly in the background; simply letting the peaceful ambience wash away all the strain of the tiresome day he had endured.

“It was, until this one came along,” he remarked, inclining his head in Tallagor’s direction.

The moose, having had his full of water, ambled over to a spot in the clearing and promptly plonked down, his spindly legs folded underneath him. He let out a mighty yawn, the uncultivated and grating sound none too pleasant on the ears. To say the Tallagor was rough around the edges was an understatement.

Charlotte grinned and tugged on Thranduil’s hand, leading him towards their faithful companion. She sat down, tugging on Thranduil’s hand to urge him to settle next to her. After a contemplative pause, he relented and was soon by her side. Leaning back against the sleepy animal, Charlotte curled under Thranduil’s arm and sighed in contentment as he drew her close.

Thranduil relaxed, all tension draining from his body as he stretched his legs out, crossing them elegantly at the ankles.

“Want to tell me about it?” she asked after a few moments of silence.

Thranduil cast his mind back to the meeting with his advisors…

_There had been a detailed discussion about the recent battle at Dale and Erebor, and the subsequent aftermath. Thranduil, even in his grief-stricken state, had ensured that a contingent had remained behind to assist in the rebuilding of Dale, and had also sent for more food and supplies to be brought to the humans. It would be a while before they were back on their feet and they would need all the help they could get._

_As the meeting had progressed, all seated at a large rectangular table, plans had been set in motion for provisions to be made for the families of the fallen guards. Thranduil’s mood had turned somber at this. It was never easy to face the grief of the loved ones who had been slain, and he knew that no words he offered would ease their suffering. Guilt would always chase at his heels – such was the burden of being a King who had sent his subjects into battle. The following morning he would have to retain every ounce of composure as a an endless sea of mourning family members stood before him; his heart becoming heavy at this prospect._

_Then, and not surprisingly, the topic had shifted to the arrival of the human woman now in their midst - something that had not gone amiss by their observations._

_H_ _é_ _rion, the oldest and stuffiest of the bunch (in Thranduil’s eyes) had been the first to voice his concerns._

_“Who is this woman that she is allowed to remain within our halls?” he asked, his voice intoning censure. His deep chestnut hair hung over his shoulders, his stormy grey eyes penetrating as they peered at the Elvenking, awaiting an answer._

_H_ _é_ _rion’s features were unlined and handsome, though his stringent attitude certainly gave him an atmosphere of an old man. He had been part of his Ada’s, King Oropher’s council and had thus carried his services over to him when Thranduil had been crowned King. Normally Thranduil found his judgement to be sound, but today...not so much._

_“Her name is Charlotte, and she remains because I will it,” Thranduil replied evenly, his tone having a sharp edge to it as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands clutched tightly at the armrests._

_Silence descended upon the room. Most knew their King well and knew that he was just as suspicious and guarded of outsiders as the rest of the kingdom. What had transpired to shift his viewpoint thus?_

_“She is human, my King,” H_ _é_ _rion pressed._

_“Yes, that she is,” Thranduil replied condescendingly, suppressing the sarcastic remark he had so badly wanted to make._

_H_ _é_ _rion stared back, unblinking as he studied his King._

_“How long is she to remain here?”_

_“Indefinitely,” Thranduil stated with finality._

_There was a hushed murmur of surprise that rippled through the council members, though none dared voice their dissent…if they had any._

_H_ _é_ _rion’s grey eyes narrowed in disapproval, his shrewd gaze observing everything._

_“Is she to be our new Queen?” he asked with sudden bluntness that it caught Thranduil off guard._

_The room descended into a stunned silence; most having not considered this option. Thranduil stilled. This subject was not something he had been expecting to discuss with them anytime soon and had rather been hoping to ease Charlotte into the Woodland Realm before stating his intentions._

_But now his hand was being forced._

_“Yes, Charlotte is to be our Queen in due time.” His steely gaze centered on H_ _é_ _rion, daring him to cross the line with him._

_H_ _é_ _rion blinked once, shell-shocked at this admittance, and leaned back in his chair. Each member held their breath as they watched the scene play out between King and trusted advisor._

_“Do you think that is wise? A human as our Queen is just plain heresy.”_

_Thranduil slowly rose from his seat, leaning forward as he gripped the edge of the oak table, his eyes glimmering like shards of glass._

_“Because she is human you think that she is not worthy to be our Queen?” His voice was softly spoken, but there was no denying the undercurrent of danger lurking below the surface._

_“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Humans are rash, belligerent and lack the wisdom of our kind. Making her Queen would be imprudent.”_

_Each insult was a personal attack and he could not help but lash out. “You’d best hold your tongue, H_ _é_ _rion. You know naught about her.”_

_“So, we are just supposed to accept this?!”_

_Thranduil took a deep breath through his nose, willing his temper down. Now was not the time to lose sight and give way to emotion. He had to be tactful, but his fury was blinding him. Charlotte had taught him many things, but curbing his temper, especially when she, herself, was being personally attacked, had not been one of those lessons._

_“You had best do just that!” he growled. “Charlotte is here to stay and that is my final word!” His hard words echoed through the chambers, ringing painfully on each ear._

_H_ _é_ _rion clenched his jaw in disapproval, but wisely held his tongue._

_Thranduil breathed in deeply through his nose, willing himself to calm down. Straightening, he gave a single nod, indicating that this meeting was now adjourned._

_He watched as each of the seven members filed out, the tension radiating from H_ _é_ _rion palpable. When the room had emptied out, Galion strode in, a glass of wine ready in his hand._

_“Thank you, Galion,” he said, taking the glass from his proffered hand and swallowed a large mouthful. He had been quite tempted to ask for the whole bottle._

_“How is Charlotte faring?”_

_“Maerwen has been showing her around, and she seems to be settling in, though Maerwen has been careful to keep Lady Charlotte at an arm’s distance from the rest of the kingdom, just as you instructed. I saw them heading towards the stables not too long ago.”_

_Thranduil took another sip of his wine, satisfied with this report, and then reached into the folds of his robe, producing a letter that bore the royal seal._

_“Locate a messenger and have this letter delivered to Legolas. He has headed North, heading towards the Dunedain,” he ordered. He had written this letter just before his meeting with his council, knowing that Legolas should hear the news of Charlotte straight from him, and not from rumors that were sure to travel and reach the Prince’s ears in what was only a matter of time._

_Galion gave a bow of his head. “It shall be done, my King.”_

_Thranduil nodded and drained his glass. Handing his now empty glass back to Galion, he strode towards the door._

_“Have dinner waiting in our room, Galion. I think I shall take Charlotte for a ride in the forest.”_

_He did not notice the slow smile that tugged on Galion’s features at his retreating King. It might not have been noticeable to others, but he had sensed a subtle change that had overcome the Elvenking - a good change - and Galion knew that this had something do with Charlotte. If he had to put his finger on this, he would have to say that she had brought a light to the Elvenking; a light that had been missing for quite some time._

_Galion went to do as he was bid, the smile still alighting his features._

“The meeting was not without adversities.” Thranduil had not the heart to tell Charlotte that her presence had caused a certain amount of dissention within his council. She did not need to know about it. So, instead, he decided to concentrate on the other matter that was presently occupying his mind. “In the morn I will have to meet with the families of the slain guards.”

Charlotte rested her hand over his heart, his guilt and grievance seeping through their bond. “Would you like for me to join you?”

“As much as I appreciate the offer, I don’t think it would be wise,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s best to integrate you with gradual ease into the lives of the Woodland elves, and your presence during a time a great mourning would cause dissention.”

Charlotte hummed softly in agreement. His argument was reasonable, and she could understand where he was coming from.

“Do you think your people will ever accept me?”

Thranduil remained silent before finally answering, “They will need time to adjust to you, Charlotte.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that we have lots of time,” she said, trying to sound optimistic, but he detected the slight waver in her voice that indicated her uncertainty.

His arm tightened around her. “Just be yourself, Charlotte. Once they get to know you, I am certain they will come to accept you, and eventually love you as I do.”

“You sound so certain.”

“I am. As with everything in life, though, it will take time, patience and understanding.”

“How did you get so wise?” she murmured, nuzzling her cheek against his chest and letting his warmth envelope her.

“Years of experience has made me practically perfect in every way,” he teased.

Charlotte glanced up at him, grinning like a loon that he had repeated her Mary Poppins reference right back at her.

A low rumble behind them startled her, and Charlotte glanced around wildly before realizing that Tallagor had fallen asleep and was now snoring.

_She hadn’t even known a moose could snore!_

“You and Tallagor have a lot in common,” Thranduil mused with amusement, catching her eye.

“I do not snore!” she protested, swatting him on the chest.

Thranduil grinned, pulling her once more against him. “Of course not. You drool.”

Charlotte groaned at the memory of the first time they had shared a sleeping space and she had drooled on his shirt.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Never.” His crystalline blue eyes danced with merriment at this light banter ensuing between them.

Contented silence reigned once more, Thranduil’s hand stroking idly along her arm as he stared off into the distance.

“How did your day fare?” he asked, breaking the reverie.

“Can’t say I ran into any complications, though Maerwen did try to bind my breasts.”

Thranduil’s grin broadened. “So that was that spike of consternation I felt from you.”

Charlotte pulled a face. “I don’t care if I have to go braless for all eternity and my boobs go saggy because of it. I am not binding my breasts!”

“I am quite fond of your breasts. For my benefit, please try not to let them go ‘saggy’.”

Charlotte glanced up at him and saw the teasing light dancing in his eyes, his mood now lighthearted and shining brightly through their bond.

“But if it eases your mind, I do have an alternative.”

Charlotte quirked a brow. “Oh?”

Thranduil ducked his head, a mischievous light illuminating his features. “You’ll have to wait until we return to our room to find out.”

“Now you have me curious,” she said, perking up. “Let’s go!”

Charlotte made to get up, but suddenly found herself in Thranduil’s lap.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To see what the surprise is.”

“You need to learn patience, little one,” he murmured, intently nuzzling against her neck, his intentions clear. “Enjoy the moment.”

“You forget that I’m human. We’re not known for being a patient bunch.”

Thranduil grinned against the soft flesh of her neck. “No truer words were spoken.”

Charlotte relaxed under his ministrations as he delicately kissed along her neck and jawline, allowing herself to get lost in the moment. She angled her head to give him better access, shivering when his hands slithered under her cloak and gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh.

Thranduil pulled back enough to look at her, his eyes darkened pools of desire. Charlotte cupped his face, her breath catching at his ethereal beauty that was intensified by the twilit sky. Before she could close the distance and kiss him, a loud rumbling of flatulence sounded behind them like a deflating balloon.

Thranduil wrinkled his nose in distaste and nudged the moose in the side with his elbow.

“You are a mood killer, Tallagor!” he bemoaned.

The moose snorted in response and rose to his feet. Thranduil let out a long-suffering sigh and Charlotte scooted off his lap, sensing the moment was over.

“I swear that moose is conspiring against me,” he muttered as he rose to his feet.

“Nah, it’s all in your head.”

Thranduil stared down his nose at her. “I did not imagine _that_.”

Giggling, Charlotte replied. “We could always go back to our room…no distractions there…”

“Do not think that I will be fooled by your ploy, Charlotte,” he said, ducking his head. “You’re just eager to get back and see what surprise lies in store for you.”

“Weeell, we could always stay here and put up with a gassy moose…or you could take me to bed and show me a few more surprises…”

His lips slowly curled into a predatory grin. “You may be sorry for suggesting such a thing, little one.” This was said with heated promise, desire flaring through their bond with such force that it almost stole her breath away.

Charlotte swallowed hard. _Maybe she should have thought that one through a bit more…it was now guaranteed that there would be little to no sleep this night._


	42. Chapter 42

The journey back to the Elvenking’s Halls proved to be swift with Tallagor carrying them at a steadfast speed. The cool wind whipped through her hair, clawing at her exposed flesh, but Thranduil at her back, holding her close against his chest, kept her grounded and chased away the chill.

The night sky was splattered with twinkling stars, each in harmony as they shone down on the world with their pure glimmering light. Charlotte marveled at how clear the night sky was here, with no smog or pollution to obscure the beauty that was infused in these lands.

Reaching the stables, Thranduil dismounted and helped her off Tallagor, his grip firm and sure on her waist as he lowered her to the ground.

A stable hand, an elf with chocolate brown hair and a jarringly youthful face that looked no older than that of a teenager, exited the stables. Bowing his head respectfully to his King, the ellon proceeded to lead Tallagor to his stall, where he would no doubt be pampered now that his position had been affirmed to that of the Elvenking’s personal stead.

“I think Tallagor is quite enjoying his new life here,” she commented, watching as the moose disappeared into the depths of the invitingly warm stables.

There was no reply to her comment, and she glanced up to find that Thranduil was watching her keenly.

“And are you enjoying it here thus far, Charlotte?”

“It’s a bit too early to say, really.” Charlotte paused and decided to be honest with him. “It’s different, Thranduil, and I’ll have to get used to everything - just as you had to get used to my world.”

“I never got used to it. It was only your company that made it bearable.”

Charlotte smiled at his words and took his hand in his own. “And you make it bearable for me.”

Thranduil shifted so that he was now facing her full on, his features earnest as he stated, “I don’t want it to be just bearable for you, Charlotte. I want you to experience enjoyment and happiness in your life here - not mere tolerance.”

“I’m sure I will come to love it here, Thranduil. It’s just going to take time, as you so wisely pointed out.” Charlotte replied, running her free hand through her hair, still unused to the tame and luxurious feel of it, and chewed on her bottom lip.

“But there is something else bothering you.”  

Charlotte sighed. Thranduil could read her like a book. She met his gaze full-on. “I could feel the other elves watching me the whole time Maerwen and I walked around the halls. It wasn’t exactly hostile, but it certainly held suspicion.”

“You have to understand, Charlotte, that we have endured the dark stain that has shadowed and overrun our beloved woods. Our home. As a result, we have become guarded and closed-off, and outsiders are treated with distrust until their worth is proven true.”

Charlotte could feel the weight of truth in his words, and she could understand where he and the rest of the Woodland elves were coming from. Still…

“So, I basically have to prove my worth…how long will that take, exactly?” The smile tugging on her lips let him know that she was only jesting with this line of thought.

Thranduil closed the distance and cupped her face between his palms, gazing down at her with such intensity that it almost made her want to squirm.

“Be patient, little one. They shall soon see what I have come to see: that you are a good woman with a pure heart, worthy to walk amongst us.”

Thranduil was certain of his convictions, but Charlotte couldn’t help but think that it was not going to be as easy as what he was making it out to be. When he said it would take time, it could be anywhere from a year to a hundred years. The passage of time was infinite with elves, having no weight or substance. It was irrelevant.

_How long would it take for her to emulate this mindset?_ The thought was almost too daunting for her to think about right now.

Charlotte resolved herself and gave a nod. _She would at least try. That’s all she could do_.

Thranduil ducked his head, tentatively brushing his lips against hers, and eliciting an eager response from her. The moon peeked out from behind a cloud and bathed them in a silvery glow, casting an ethereal spotlight on them and the tender moment they were sharing.

Finally, Thranduil pulled back, contentment illuminating his pale features as he smiled down at her.

Taking her hand, he started leading her to the entrance of the mountainous kingdom. “Dinner is waiting for us in our room.”

Charlotte was grateful that Thranduil was at least easing her into this life and she had not yet been subjected to the torture of dining in the grand halls, where all eyes of its inhabitants would be focused on her. Charlotte had always detested being the center of attention and as a result, suffered from terrible stage fright. Soon, though, she would have to face this ordeal head-on soon, whether she was ready or not, and this thought did little to settle her nerves.

They strolled at a leisurely pace, hand-in-hand. Thranduil was the epitome of cool and collected as they made their way along the labyrinth of winding staircases and wide passages, seemingly unaffected. But Charlotte could feel it: the eyes of the Woodland elves trained on them and their progression. Charlotte lowered her head, trying to hide from their prying eyes.

“Hold your head high, Charlotte. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Thranduil murmured by her side.

Charlotte sucked in a deep breath and glanced over at him. “I’m not ashamed…it’s just unnerving being stared at. It makes me self-conscious.”

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m by your side, little one, and always will be.”

Charlotte gave him a tight smile and turned her attention ahead, taking a deep breath. _She could do this. This was her life now, and her new status meant that she was going to have to get used to the stares and whispers that would follow._

They eventually made it to their room, and Charlotte had to wonder whether Thranduil had taken the long way around, ensuring that all the inhabitants would see them together?

The guards stationed outside their room opened the heavy wooden doors to allow their entrance, stepping aside and bowing their heads.

Once the doors closed silently behind them, Charlotte turned to Thranduil, her brows furrowed slightly as she asked, “Why do you have guards stationed at your doors. Surely your people wouldn’t try to do anything to you?”

“They are not there for protection, though that is part of their duties. No, they are there to deter any unwanted visitors and interruptions. My chambers are my private sanctity and should not be disturbed unwontedly.”

_Ah, that made more sense…_

“But…” Charlotte flushed as another embarrassing thought occurred to her. “That means they can…hear…everything.”

Thranduil smirked at her discomfort. “For someone who comes from a world where such activities are liberally thrown in one’s face, you certainly are showing a great amount of prudeness.”

“Just because I come from a sexually liberated world doesn’t mean that I appreciate the thought of them being able to hear us while…we’re at it.”

Thranduil’s grin broadened as she flushed a deeper shade of red. “You are so adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

“Explains why you enjoy embarrassing me so often,” she retorted.

The twinkling gleam in his electric blue eyes was answer enough. “Come. Let’s eat.”

Charlotte unclasped her cloak and hung it up before joining him at the table. Tonight’s course was a dish of venison, the middle of the thinly sliced pieces of meat pinkish and drizzled over with a blood red sauce that soaked into the moist meat. Scalloped potatoes smothered in a creamy mushroom sauce was dished up next to the venison and bright green vegetables made up the rest of the plate.

Two crystal glasses of wine stood to the side, the Bordeaux liquid within dark and opaque. A lit candle in a delicate glass candle holder was placed in the center of the table, giving the dining experience a somewhat romantic feel.

“Hmm, this brings back memories,” she commented, smoothing down the crisp white napkin over her lap.

Thranduil’s gaze flickered over the table.

“This would be Galion’s handiwork; his tongue-in-cheek way of giving his approval.”

“So, I have his approval then?” she asked amusedly, taking a sip of her wine.

“I trust his judgement over my own advisors.”

Charlotte arched a brow in surprise at this. _It would seem that Galion, beside being a butler, was a close confidante of the Elvenking._

Thranduil continued, “But when it comes to you, I do not need his approval, nor that of the rest of my kingdom.”

The last part was said with an almost bitter finality, and Charlotte frowned at his sudden shift in his mood.

“Is that what happened today?”

Thranduil paused, an eerie stillness overtaking him as he stared back at her with a penetrative gaze. Charlotte placed her glass down and reached over, clasping his hand in her own.

“Were your advisors against me being here?”

Silence stretched, Thranduil still unmoving, but she glimpsed the flash of anger that simmered at the memory of his meeting. Finally, he gave a small nod of his head.

Charlotte bit her bottom lip; she had been expecting opposition, and a certain amount of hostility, but knowing that Thranduil had been outright resisted at being with her stung profusely.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly, her heart aching for him.

“I did not want to burden you with this knowledge,” he replied evenly

Charlotte knew exactly what he was saying: he wanted to protect her.

“Thranduil, we’re a team. Your burden is now also my burden. You shouldn’t have to carry this alone.”

Thranduil blinked at the sincerity in her voice, his heart yearning to share his onus with her. For so long he had carried the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders. Now he had someone to share it with. But his protective side came to the forefront.

He raised her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon her flesh. “There are some things I wish to protect you from, Charlotte, and that is my right. But if I feel that it shall not cause you distress then I shall gladly share.”

Charlotte let out a sigh of defeat, knowing this was the best she would get from him. _Thranduil could be as stubborn as a dwarf!_ Pulling her hand free of his, she started tucking into her meal. Spearing a piece of meat on her fork, she gave him a pointed look.

“I am stronger than I look, Thranduil.”

“I know,” he replied simply as he, too, started in on his meal.

_Charlotte had a quiet strength within her that, when forced to, came to the forefront with fierceness. But there was also a softer side; a side that was easily hurt._ He had witnessed her tears before and did not wish to cause her more. He had vowed to protect her, and that included her emotional pain.

They finished their meal, Charlotte looking thoroughly sated.

“I’m going to get fat,” she moaned, leaning back in her chair. “The food is just too damn good.”

“Then we’ll have to find more creative ways for you to work it off,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.

Thranduil rose from his chair and extended his long-fingered hand towards her. “In the meantime, though, would you like to see your surprise?”

Charlotte instantly perked up and took his proffered hand. “Lead on, Your Majesty.”

Thranduil smirked. “Your Majesty? Are you having trouble finding a suitable pet name?”

“Well, I could always keep calling you ‘Pointy-eared Princess’,” she replied with a wicked grin.

“Hmm,” Thranduil murmured thoughtfully as he guided her to the doors of his closet. “Keep working on it.”

He opened the door and guided her in, stepping aside so her view of the interior wasn’t obstructed.

Charlotte stood rooted to the spot, her mouth agape as she took in all the fine and luxurious clothing that took up quite a bit of space. The sheer size of the ‘closet’ was incomprehensible to her mind.

Finally, she looked over at him, disbelief plainly written on her features. “My God, Thranduil! I’m starting to think you have a clothing addiction. I’ve never met a man that had as many clothes as what you do.”

“I am no man,” he remarked coolly, causing Charlotte to roll her eyes. “And not all the clothes here are mine.”

Thranduil stepped behind her and placed his warm hands on her shoulders, shifting her to the right where a few dresses and cloaks were hanging on their rack, each beautifully tailored and no less lavish than his own.

_Bellethiel, the court seamstress, had outdone herself with making this many on such a short notice. But she would have her hands busy for the next few weeks as she completed the future Queen’s closet,_ Thranduil thought to himself.

“Those are yours. More are being made, but this should suffice for the time being.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened at this, and she drew closer with tentative steps to inspect the stunning garments. She fingered the soft material of a forest green dress that was embossed with ink black designs and stitching. It was a masterpiece in itself and Charlotte couldn’t help but feel giddy at the prospect of wearing it. She had never before worn such a richly made garment before, and what she was currently wearing was pale in comparison to these.

“They beautiful,” she breathed out, her tone hushed with awe. She turned around to face him. “Thank you.”

His features softened. “You need not thank me, Charlotte. I will endeavor to do whatever it takes to make you comfortable.”

Charlotte gave him a sappy smile, but then a thought occurred to her.

“Wait. How do you know my size?”

Thranduil ducked his head, his hands clasped behind his back as he responded with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I know every inch of your body, Charlotte.”

Charlotte flushed under his penetrative gaze, as well as the meaning behind his words. _He did, indeed, know every inch of her body. Quite intimately._

“But this is not the whole surprise,” he stated abruptly, straightening.

“There’s more?” she asked, excitement taking over.

Thranduil smirked. “Oh yes.”

He strode over to an oak dresser situated at the end of the closet; the dark wood polished to a high gleam. Opening a drawer, he selected an item and turned to face her, letting it dangle from his forefinger.

“Look familiar?”

Her jaw hit the ground. For there, dangling from his finger, was a pair of black, lacy thongs.

“Is that...?”

“It is.” His grin broadened, making his features shine with youthful playfulness.

“How?” she asked, her gaze flittering back and forth between the thong and his thoroughly pleased face.

“I had Bellethiel make a few…and a bra.”

Her eyes widened spectacularly at this most welcome news. “Seriously?”

Thranduil stepped aside, placing the thong back in the drawer. “Look for yourself.”

Charlotte rushed over, her gaze sweeping over the handful of lacy underwear in one draw. In the other, proudly on display, was a damn good replica of her beloved bra; a perfect match to the underwear Thranduil had just shown her.

She was tempted to do a happy dance right there and then. _No more Granny panties!_

“I can just imagine the look on her face when you explained what you wanted made,” she mused giddily.

Thranduil pressed his lips together to suppress his amusement at the memory:

_Bellethiel had stood there gazing down at the drawings he had given to her, a slight frown furrowing her brows._

_“What is the purpose of these, my King?” she eventually asked, her eyes still trying to make sense of it all._

_“Undergarments.”_

_Bellethiel visibly startled, her evergreen eyes widening spectacularly as though she had just come face to face with a were-worm. She blinked a few times, straining to regain her composure._

_“I see,” she finally responded, her tone far from certain. Then a small frown etched between her delicately curved brows. “Are they any good?”_

_“Oh yes.”_

_Bellethiel pursed her lips, though he had glimpsed the possibilities running through her mind…_

“I daresay that your choice of underwear might become the latest trend among the ellith here.”

Charlotte, who had picked up the bra to examine it, whipped her head in his direction at this statement. Then she burst into peals of laughter.

“The new lingerie can be called Thrandywear!”

“Or Charlotte’s Secret.”

Charlotte spluttered. _He knew about Victoria’s Secret?!_

“Dare I ask?”

“Best not. But it was a fascinating introduction to your world in my first few days there.”

Charlotte shook her head. _That had, indeed, been some introduction!_

Thranduil opened another drawer and pulled out a garment.

“I would like for you to wear this to bed,” he said, depositing the garment into her hand before strolling out of the room.

“But I haven’t had a bath yet!” she called after him.

“What’s the point of having a bath when I plan to get you thoroughly dirty?” he called over his shoulder, his smug deep voice echoing back to her.

Charlotte flushed crimson and then took a good look at the item he had just given her.

It proved to be a sheer flimsy nightgown of a shimmering transparent silver. The material was featherlight in her hands and would ghost over her body like a fine misty film. A deep V cut into the neckline and as she held it out in front of her, she could tell that the length would drape over the floor in a seductive train.

_Yup, Thranduil had definitely gotten this design from Victoria’s Secret…_

Charlotte shrugged off her dress. As she prepared to don the nightgown, a random thought hit her, unnerving her, and she mentally made some calculations.

Icy shock coursed through her veins. _Could it be?_

Her menstrual cycle was late. Two weeks late. Maybe more – she had no idea how long she had been unconscious in Lothlorien. But her cycle was never late.

Clutching the garment to her chest, Charlotte made her way to the room, where she found Thranduil standing by crackling fire that burned in the fireplace, a glass of wine clutched in his hand.

“Thranduil,” she called out.

Thranduil turned, stilling when he noted the uncertainty radiating from her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his quick strides placing him in front of her in a blink of an eye. His hands gripped her shoulder as he peered down at her with palpable concern.

“Is it possible…that…” She swallowed hard. “I’m late!” she blurted out.

Thranduil frowned. “Late? Late for what?”

“No, no.” Charlotte shook her head. “It means that my…uh, menstrual cycle is late.”

Thranduil frowned, not quite comprehending her meaning. “Menstrual cycle?”

It was now Charlotte’s turn to frown. _Did female elves even have menstrual cycles_? Judging by the look of utter confusion written on his features, the answer would be ‘No’.

Deciding to cut straight to the point, she voiced her burning question.

“Is it possible that I’m…pregnant?”

His eyes widened as understanding hit him, his mind putting two and two together. His posture relaxed visibly.

“Not unless I will it.”

_Oh! Of course! How could she have forgotten that detail? A pregnancy did not occur between elves unless both parties willed it._

“And…have you?”

Thranduil pried the garment loose from her, dropping it to the floor, and clasped her hands in his own, pinning them to his chest.

“No, Charlotte. I would do no such thing without your consent.”

Charlotte nodded, trying hard to ignore the stab of disappointment that shot through her. _For but a brief moment there had been a glimmer of hope._

“Were you hoping that you were with child?” he asked kindly as he watched the emotions flitter across her features.

“I don’t know.” Charlotte admitted and hung her head. “I had come to terms that I would never be able to have children, Thranduil, and I’m not even sure you would be able to make me pregnant, elf magic or not. But part of me thought, for a moment, that with all these changes I’ve gone through, it might be possible…”

Thranduil released her hands, his fingers drawing up and skimming over her bare arms, raising goosebumps along his path.

“I think that you may find that where there is a will there is a way. And I happen have the will to do just that.”

Charlotte glanced up at him quickly, renewed hope flashing in her warm hazel eyes. Thranduil was quite tempted right there and then to give Charlotte her heart’s desire.

It constricted his heart painfully, though, to have to finish his sentence. “But we are going to have to wait to try for a child.” He watched forlornly as her hopes were dashed and he cupped her face between his palms, forcing her to look at him. “I want you to be settled within the kingdom and crowned Queen first before we try. And we shall try for a child, I vow to you.”

Charlotte willed down her disappointment. _Thranduil was right – it was better to wait until the time was right. Right now, more urgent matters needed to be tended to._

So Charlotte decided to focus on the present. “I am hardly Queen material, Thranduil.”

“I think that you shall find that you are, indeed, made to be a Queen, Charlotte,” Thranduil stated, brushing his lips against her own in a tender kiss before pulling her tight against his chest, his chin resting upon the crown of her head.

Charlotte gave an undignified snort against his chest. “I know absolutely nothing about being a Queen. I’m going to be useless.”

As Thranduil held her close, an idea started forming in his mind. _It was true that Charlotte was a far cry from the image of Queen_ _and would need extensive training in that department. But he now knew just the person qualified for the job – though he knew for a fact that this certain ellon was going to detest this task set before him._

This thought was enough to make Thranduil smirk. _This was going to prove to be entertaining._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shout-out needs to go to Archangel of Fire 777 from FF.net for giving me the idea of 'Charlotte's Secret', and TardisGhost for giving me the idea of 'Thrandywear'. You guys are just the best :)
> 
> If you want to see an absolutely adorable picture of Thranduil and Tallagor, be sure to check out TardisGhost on DeviantArt - she has created the cutest pic of those two for me :D
> 
> Please review, fave and follow :)


	43. Chapter 43

Thranduil was currently in his study, his hands clasped behind his ramrod straight back. His robe of deep burgundy infused with black stitching reflecting his current mood: dark and contemplative.

He stared at the rows of leather-bound tomes stacked neatly on the bookshelf, but he wasn’t really seeing the titles, his mind focused elsewhere. _The next phase, regarding Charlotte, was going to take some tact and skillful manipulation_.

His mind drifted to the sleeping woman ensconced in their bed and he concentrated on their bond, sensing that she was still blissfully asleep, and would probably remain so for a few more hours yet.

_Charlotte certainly coveted her sleeping hours – something that had not been altered along with the other changes that she was going through._

He frowned as he recalled the previous night and all the emotions bought on by it. Her menstrual cycle (a term he had most certainly not known anything about until she had explained it to him) was absent or at the very least, slowed down. Thranduil had lived a long life and the ways of humans in Middle Earth were well-known to him. But the intricacies of womanhood amongst them seemed to be a guarded secret, or not talked about at all. _How odd that a human woman would bleed every month, and a missing period was a clear indication of pregnancy._

The thought of pregnancy bought a pang to his heart, especially when he recalled the shimmering hurt reflected in her warm hazel eyes when he had explained that they would have to wait. He had not thought about having a child with Charlotte as they were still in the early stages of their relationship, but now the idea had been planted within his very being, urging to bud and bloom to reality.

But for now there were more pressing matters at hand. He should contact Galadriel and seek the answer as to what was happening with Charlotte, but he greatly suspected that she, for all her wisdom, would only state that these changes had been bought about by the Valar.

It was a plausible theory. Maybe they had done it to ensure that Charlotte’s transition into the world of elvenkind was more smooth, but these modifications were still disconcerting. Not wholly unwelcome – after getting over her shock and hurt, Charlotte had practically done a happy dance at the prospect of never having a period again. But something niggled at the back of his mind, and it would not ease until he had a satisfactory answer.

A soft knock sounded on the door, breaking Thranduil from his musings.

Turning around, he called out, “Enter.”

A moment later Galion strode in.

“Hérion is here, my King.”

Thranduil gave a nod. “Thank you, Galion. Before you leave, though, I would like for you to inform Mithrenniel that I will be stopping by later on. Her services are required.”

Galion paused at the request, and Thranduil could see the burning question in his warm brown eyes.

Galion was an ellon of a light-hearted disposition – probably the reason he had managed to withstand Thranduil’s tumultuous moods all these years. It took a certain kind of personality not to be troubled by the Elvenking’s infamous temper, and Galion had just such a temperament. A strong bond of understanding had formed between the two, though Galion never overstepped his boundaries, and it was only because Thranduil considered him a confidante that he deigned to elaborate.

“Yes, it concerns Charlotte, and you may tell her as much.”

Galion bowed his head in assent and swiftly departed from the room. A moment later, Hérion strode in.

_This ellon, on the other hand, exuded an air of haughty arrogance – something Thranduil was all too guilty of_.

“My King,” Hérion greeted, his hand curling over his heart as he bowed his head respectfully.

“Please sit, Hérion. There is much to discuss,” Thranduil stated, extending his hand towards the chair that sat opposite his desk.

Hérion did as he was bid and once he was seated, Thranduil glided over to his own chair, settling into the intricately carved furniture with feline grace. Crossing his legs and steepling his fingers in front of him, Thranduil studied Hérion for a moment more.

“I need to ask you: does your judgement on Lady Charlotte still stand?”

Hérion stared back at the Elvenking with an unblinking gaze. His posture, although seemingly relaxed, radiated a certain amount of tension.

“It is not so much Lady Charlotte that I have an issue with,” he began with deliberation, “but rather the implications of her becoming Queen of the Woodland Realm.”

Thranduil gave a thoughtful nod. “That is why I have called you here today, Hérion.”

Hérion arched a brow but remained silent as he waited for his King to continue. Thranduil glimpsed the spark of interest that flashed through the other elf’s grey eyes, and restrained from smiling, keeping his features carefully neutral.

“Your reaction gave me a clear indication as to how the rest of my subjects would react at the news if they weren’t given proper preparation.” Thranduil leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. “I have deliberated with myself on how to break the news, and I have come to the conclusion that there will be no easy way. Thus, I have begun Charlotte’s introduction into elven society with gradual ease, but questions will soon arise. Question that you, yourself, asked.”

“It goes without saying that we are all curious about her presence. Sheltering her away might not be the best course of action.”

The corner of Thranduil’s mouth quirked. _H_ _é_ _rion, for all his reticence and resistance, was still loyal and offering his advice._

“I trust your judgement, Hérion,” he continued. “You have always been devoted and have given me sound advice over the course of many years; advice that has never led me astray.”

“You are my King, and I will do nothing less.”

Thranduil could taste the sincerity in Hérion’s declaration and gave a reverent inclination of his head. “For that I thank you, Hérion. Your loyalty is the reason I have called you here – I wish to make you a proposition.”

Hérion’s brows furrowed together ever so slightly. “A proposition?”

Thranduil’s electric blue eyes sparkled with his inner mirth. “I would like for you to train Lady Charlotte in the proper etiquette of being a Queen.”

Dead silence descended upon the room.

“My King?” Hérion finally asked.

“You heard me,” Thranduil said with a barely restrained smirk as he leaned back in his chair.

“Yes, I heard you,” Hérion stated somewhat irritably. “I don’t think that I am fully understanding the reasoning behind your…request.”

“You are opposed to Charlotte to being Queen.” This was said as a statement rather than a question.

Hérion didn’t dispute this claim and merely inclined his head.

Thranduil continued. “You are well qualified to give her this much needed tutelage, and I have no doubt that you are capable of doing just that.” Thranduil paused. “By doing so, you will get to know Charlotte better and get a better sense of who she is as a person. I ask only that you reserve your initial judgement until after her training is complete.”

The royal advisor studied his King with a critical gaze. The seconds ticked by as he contemplated this request laid before him and finally, he asked, “And what if my judgement remains unchanged by the end of her training?”

It was now Thranduil’s turn to be quietly contemplative. “I do not know.”

Hérion frowned at this rare admission that had a hint of vulnerability.

“This is where the situation becomes somewhat complicated, for I have already bonded with her.”

The advisor let out an audible gasp.

“My King…how could you?” he asked, rising from his seat. “You have doomed your kingdom! She is but a mortal…”

“No, she is not.”

Hérion blinked, his tirade halted by his confusion.

“She is not mortal,” Thranduil enunciated, his tone clipped and clear. Inclining his head in the direction of the seat, he ordered, “Sit down, Hérion. There is much more to this story than you originally thought.”

Hérion slowly lowered himself back into his chair as he settled in for the story of a lifetime.

 

ooOoo

“My Lady. It’s time to get up,” a melodious, yet firm voice called out, seeping into the sleepy recesses of her mind.

Charlotte blearily cracked open an eye and let out a squeak of surprise to see the ever regal looking Maerwen looming over her.

Today, her hair was swept up in a bun with loose tendrils framing her beatific face, and she wore a simple flowing dress of a light orchard color, the purplish hue complementing her coloring perfectly.

Charlotte clutched tightly at the covers, pulling it right up to her chin, and then mentally chided herself. _Maerwen had seen far more of her than she cared to admit when she had given her a bath yesterday - an ordeal she did not want to repeat._

“Wha’?” she asked, struggling to wake fully.

“It’s time to get up,” Maerwen repeated.

“But…but it’s still early. And couldn’t you have knocked?”

Maerwen gave her look that almost bordered on exasperation. “I did…several times. I had been warned of your love for sleeping in.” She paused before continuing. “But no, my Lady – the morning is half gone.”

Charlotte inwardly groaned, knowing this elleth was not going to let her be.

“What’s so urgent that I have to get up?” she grumbled, though she did throw back the covers and swung her legs over the edge. He body ached all over and was reluctant to obey. _Curse Thranduil for keeping her up so late…why couldn’t she had been gifted with elvish stamina?_

Maerwen handed her a robe. If she noted the fresh bruises in the perfect shape of Thranduil’s fingertips on Charlotte’s body, she wisely kept her comments to herself.

“You are to meet up with one of the royal advisors for tutelage,” Maerwen stated simply.

Charlotte shrugged on the robe, knotting the tie around her middle, and glanced up at the other female. “Tutelage for what?”

“I do not know exactly, my Lady.”

“Maybe it’s cooking lessons,” Charlotte muttered.

Maerwen’s lips quirked at the corners. “Highly doubtful, considering that King Thranduil gave us explicit instructions to keep you as far away from the kitchens as possible.”

“Of course he did,” she said with an eyeroll.

“Let’s get you ready,” Maerwen said, guiding Charlotte by the elbow towards the bathroom.

“And what of this royal advisor? What is he like?”

“Hérion is…set in his ways,” Maerwen answered diplomatically.

“Ah, so he’s a crotchety old coot?”

This time Maerwen actually smiled before her features sobered. “He is considered wise and just. He can offer you much assistance, my Lady.”

_If you let him._ This was not said out loud, but the implication was there.

Charlotte let out a resigned sigh. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” she muttered to herself as she disrobed and prepared for her bath, not noticing the confused look that passed over Maerwen’s features at this phrase.

After a thorough scrub and her hair had been tamed into luxurious waves with some miraculous oil (no products on Earth had ever been able to tame her wild hair like these), Charlotte and Maerwen headed to the closet to select an appropriate dress.

While Maerwen assessed each garment, Charlotte went over to the dresser and selected her favorite (and only) bra and a pair of lacy underwear.

“What is that?”

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to see Maerwen staring at her with undisguised shock at what she was wearing.

“Underwear,” Charlotte replied as she finished clasping her bra. She made her way over to Maerwen and took the pearl pink hued dress from her hands. “Thranduil had the court seamstress make them. I, uh, can’t remember her name.”

“Bellethiel,” Maerwen supplied absently, her amber eyes still scrutinizing the undergarments. It was a look borne purely out of inquisitiveness, with just a dash of yearning. This caused a sly thought to enter Charlotte’s mind.

“You should go and speak to her about making you some. They are quite comfortable,” Charlotte commented as she stepped into the dress, the deluxe material gliding over her skin.

The tips of Maerwen’s pointed ear turned pink. “They are far too scandalous.”

“How so? It’s not like anybody’s going to see them,” Charlotte pointed out as Maerwen’s nimble fingers started lacing up the back of the dress.

There was a prolonged pause and Charlotte smirked to herself, knowing that the idea had now been implanted in the other female’s head.

_Thrandywear was going to be the latest rage soon…_

The dress now laced up, Charlotte turned around to examine her reflection in the mirror, stilling at the stranger that stared back at her. Gone was the simple country girl who favored jeans or fuzzy pajamas, and in her stead now stood a woman who personified what it meant to be that of noble heritage.

The dress was long and flowing, the long sleeves flaring at her wrists. The bodice was form-fitting, accentuating her womanly curves, and was tailored with gold embroidery and intricate designs. The neckline was cut in a deep scoop neck and was bordered with the same gold stitching as the bodice. The skirt flowed like a silken waterfall over her legs, the hem brushing against the floor when she moved.

Outwardly, she was the epitome of sovereignty, but inside she still felt like…plain old Charlotte.

Maerwen draped a matching cloak over her slim shoulder, clasping it under Charlotte’s neck with a silver broach. The elleth stepped back, her gaze raking over Charlotte’s appearance before giving a nod of approval.

“Good enough?” Charlotte asked.

“It is a far cry from your appearance from when you first arrived here.”

Charlotte could just imagine how ghastly she had appeared, especially compared to the flawless beauty the elves possessed. As she looked over at Maerwen, she was surprised to see a teasing light dancing in those amber depths.

“Is that your fancy way of saying I look pretty?”

Maerwen actually cracked a smile. “I suppose.”

Charlotte shrugged, nonplussed. It was as good as what she was going to get from the elleth.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte entered the room, which she guessed to be some sort of meeting room. It was small in size and had a cozy feel to it. Two plush beige armchairs were positioned so that they faced each other, and an ornately woven wool rug rested on the polished wood floors between them. A low burning fire crackled in the hearth, casting the interior with much needed warmth, and also added a welcoming mood to the room. A few oil paintings hung on the walls, their golden frames reflecting the fire from the hearth.

Hérion stood unmoving by the tall window that extended from almost ceiling to floor, the heavy maroon hued curtains flung wide open to let in the morning rays of light. Charlotte glimpsed the endless sea of trees beyond that made up the Mirkwood forest. It was a magnificent sight, even with the tress mostly bare as they weathered the winter season. Soon they would be budding with new green leaves, and the scene before her would be that of life and vitality.

Hérion turned to face her and Charlotte stilled under the weight of scrutiny reflected in his storm grey eyes. He was handsome, but that was nothing as all elves were exceptionally breathtaking in their beauty, but there was a certain closed-off and withdrawn mannerism to him that came across as superior and conceited. Maybe it was the way his brows pinched together, or maybe it was the lack of any warmth or joy in his features, but he certainly didn’t exude a welcoming persona. It made her wonder whether, like Thranduil, he hid his true nature deep, deep down inside.

She had concluded that though elves were kind-hearted and would not willing hurt another innocent being, they tended to be reserved and trust was something that had to be earned with them. They were not an unfeeling race, quite the opposite, but their longevity - as well as how deeply they felt things - made them more cautious.

“So…you are to be our new Queen?” he asked, his tone haughty as he stepped nearer to her.

Charlotte scowled, not quite sure she liked his attitude, but then remembered Maerwen’s advice. As she eyed him, Charlotte guessed that he would not appreciate a witty comeback and honesty would be the best course with this elf.

“It was not something I expected.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, not sounding entirely convinced. “And what did you expect?”

Charlotte paused. _What had she been expecting when she had agreed to come back to Middle Earth with Thranduil? Being crowned Queen had been the farthest thing from her mind back then and even now._

“At the time, when I agreed to come back with Thranduil, I was agreeing to be with the one I love.”

Hérion’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He silently studied her for a moment longer. “King Thranduil told me of your tale.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. _She had been under the impression that Thranduil wanted to keep the truth of her origins low-key, at least for the time being anyway. The fact that he had revealed it to this ellon in particular meant that he either trusted him, or Thranduil was completely losing his mind!_

“As amazing as it all is, I am still not convinced that you are fit to be our Queen.”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Charlotte muttered, “You and me both.”

Hérion arched a brow at this admittance, giving his stony features added arrogance. But if Charlotte had really known him, she would have seen this gesture for what it truly was: surprise.

Charlotte sighed and went over to one of the armchairs, settling into the soft cushioning. Hérion, after a pause, came to sit on the other, his gaze never wavering from her.

“I know absolutely nothing about being a Queen,” Charlotte started, picking at a thread on the armrest, her eyes downcast as she tried to organize her thoughts. Sighing, she dropped her hands in her lap and met his gaze. “In my world, I was nothing more than a simple…human. I had no aspirations to become anything more. Even when Thranduil entered my life, it was not a future I had envisioned for myself or even thought possible. It all just sort of…happened.”

“And now that this has become your reality, how do you feel?”

_Hérion was like an Inquisitor, demanding the truth from her._

Squaring her shoulders, Charlotte answered as truthfully as possible. “Terrified.”

Hérion’s features remained an unreadable mask as he considered her. Finally, he responded. “As well you should be. Being Queen is no easy task.”

Charlotte rubbed tiredly at her forehead. “Yeah, I guessed as much. I have only been here for a short time and I can already see the strain it has on Thranduil being a King.”

Silence descended once more.

“Well, at least you’re not blind to what your new role entails,” he remarked dryly..

Charlotte glanced up at him, expecting to see malicious cruelty lurking on his alabaster features, but all she saw was plain honesty.

Hérion rose to his feet with the liquid grace of his kind, his deep chestnut hair falling over his shoulders in silky waterfalls. His charcoal grey clothes rustled at the movement before stilling.

“We shall commence your training tomorrow morning two hours after sunrise. Do not be late,” he remarked abruptly before exiting the room without another word or backward glance.

Charlotte sat in the chair, blinking in confusion. _What had just happened? The meeting was over before it had even begun. Had this merely been an opportunity for Hérion to size her up?_ _Or_ _had it been a test? If so, had she passed?_ She was starting to feel some empathy towards Captain America.

Her stomach gave an audible growl and Charlotte realized she hadn’t yet eaten breakfast. She glanced towards the door, unsure if she was supposed to wait for Maerwen to come and collect her or if she was supposed to stick her head out the door and holler for the elleth.

Her stomach gave off another loud and insistent growl. Charlotte drummed her fingers against the armrest, steadily growing impatient. Finally, she heaved herself off the chair and made her way to the door. Poking her head out she noted that there was no one waiting there for her. Just an all too quiet and empty hallway.

Charlotte stepped out and glanced left and right. She could head back to her room, but she had no idea how to make it back there. The Elvenking’s Halls were but a maze to her and she knew she would get hopelessly lost. But she was growing impatient of waiting.

_Where the hell was Maerwen?_

Finally having enough, Charlotte decided to go and try and find her room.

_What’s the worst that could happen?_

An hour later, Charlotte had to admit to herself that she was completely and utterly lost. And very hungry.

She was currently on a much lower level of the kingdom. When she glanced up all she could see were a tapestry of archways, curving bridges and winding stairs that spiraled ever upwards. Looming pillars carved with delicate tessellations loomed all around her and if she focused, she could discern arches carved overhead, the designs that of alabaster trees. Beams of sunlight filtered through the gloom, and hanging lanterns were placed at strategic points, casting an otherworldly glow throughout the stone palace.

_She needed to go up…_

Suddenly her nose picked up a delicious aroma, the tantalizing scent wafting all around her and pushing aside all other thoughts except that of food. Following her nose, Charlotte descended a few more staircases until she came upon a large intricately carved archway, the smell much stronger here. Tentatively poking her head inside, she realized that she was now in none other than the royal kitchen.

The kitchen, or galley, was massive in its sheer size. Long wooden workstations stretched out in rows with numerous pots and pans hanging from hooks. It was bustling hive of activity, with the elves focused on their task of preparing food for all the inhabitants that dwelled within the kingdom. As Charlotte observed them, it was like watching a finely choreographed dance, with each elf moving with concise precision, their words uttered with melodious respect. There was none of the clanging and shouting that one would expect in a busy kitchen.

Her stomach gave another rumble as the gorgeous aromas enveloped her, practically making her mouth water.

An ellon with honey-brown hair that hung like a straight banner down his back was working on some dough at the table nearest her, and he happened to glance up to see Charlotte standing in the doorway.

His cornflower blue eyes widened in surprise and he immediately halted in his task. He turned to face her and Charlotte noted that his apron was dusted white with flour. Grabbing a dish rag, he wiped his hands clean and advanced towards her.

“My Lady, may I be of assistance?”

His words were spoken in a harmonious tone, belying a friendly warmth that she had not yet witnessed with the elves here thus far as they all kept to themselves. Galion was the exception, having shown her friendliness even though he barely knew her. Maerwen was slowly starting to warm up to her, but for the time being her demeanor was still reserved and their friendship would be a gradual build.

Charlotte chewed on her bottom lip. “I got lost, and then...I got hungry.”

Her eyes were drawn to a tray of delicious and dainty looking tarts, and she subconsciously licked her lips.

The ellon glanced over to where she was staring and glanced back at her, noting the undisguised yearning written on her features.

“Would you like to sample some?” he asked.

Her stomach gave a traitorous grumble and the elf pressed his lips together to restrain his mirth, especially when she glanced down and scowled darkly at her belly.

“Please,” she said with a sigh. “Otherwise it will never stop.”

The elf gave her a broad grin and motioned for her to sit at the table while he collected the tray of pastries, placing them down in front of her.

Charlotte picked up a tart, restraining with great effort not to shove it in her mouth. Taking a bite, she practically moaned out loud in appreciation as the delicious flavor of honey and berries exploded in her mouth.

“My goodness! This is a masterpiece!” she enthused, shoving the rest of the tart into her mouth, her restraint now forgotten.

The elf beamed down at her, thoroughly pleased at her praise.

Swallowing down her mouthful, Charlotte looked up thoughtfully at him. “Are you the, uh, master chef?”

“I personally prepare the King’s meals,” he elaborated.

“Really? The food you make, by the way, is to die for,” she said, reaching for another tart. “What is your name?”

“Aranhil, my Lady.”

Charlotte took another bite, an idea forming in her mind. “Can I ask you something, Aranhil?”

“Of course, my Lady.”

Charlotte leaned forward, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye. “Please sit down, Aranhil. I’m going to need your help.”


	44. Chapter 44

“What do you mean you can’t find her?!” Thranduil asked with barely held-back fury that stemmed from his growing panic.

Galion and Maerwen stood before him; the elleth looking ghastly pale as she faced her King’s wrath.

“Lady Charlotte’s meeting with Hérion was supposed to last an hour,” she explained, her voice quivering slightly. “When I came back to collect her, the room was empty and she was nowhere to be found.”

Thranduil clutched tightly at the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white.

“Have you spoken with Hérion?” Thranduil addressed Galion, his tone dark and foreboding. He straightened and stepped around the desk, coming to stand before the two elves, his posture tall and imposing.

“I have,” Galion replied carefully. _He was used to Thranduil’s temper and knew well how to weather it, but this time was different. Thranduil was on the verge of exploding_. “He does not know of her whereabouts. He said he spoke to her briefly and then left to make preparations for her upcoming lessons.”

Thranduil breathed in deeply through his nose, willing himself to remain calm. _He needed to keep a level head._

“Have you checked with the guards at the entrances?”

“I have already done so, my King. She has not left your Halls,” Galion stated.

Thranduil rubbed at his temples, feeling a splitting headache coming on.

_How was it possible for one little human female to disappear in a palace full of elves?_

“Has no one else seen her?” he growled, his patience wearing thin.

“A few saw her wandering around on the lower levels, but that was over an hour ago. She has not been seen since.”

Thranduil closed his eyes, breathing deeply, but it was no use. He could feel his feeble hold on his temper fast disintegrating.

Suddenly he felt an something akin to elation flare through their bond; the emotion so strong that it caused his eyes to fly open.

_Wherever Charlotte was right now, she was highly pleased with something. And safe_ , he thought, immense relief washing over him and making his volatile temper deflate.

Though Thranduil was certain that none of his subjects would cause her any harm– it was not the way of elves to be vindictive or malicious - it still didn’t stop him from being protective, especially when it came to Charlotte.

Furrowing his brows, Thranduil concentrated on their bond, puzzling over what was making her almost giddy with glee.

“She is safe, and quite content by the feel of it,” he murmured, more to himself than the two elves that stood before him.

He did not notice the look that passed between Maerwen and Galion; a look of startled surprise. _They had not known that their King had bonded with Charlotte, and this revelation was somewhat of a shock, though in hindsight, not surprising._

Thranduil cast his memory to all the places to be found on the lower levels.

_It was quite possible that she had found the wine cellar, if her giddy mood was anything to go by…_

Thranduil lifted his gaze to meet the amber and warm brown of Maerwen and Galion’s eyes.

“Did you happen to search the kitchen?”

Galion’s eyes widened, a clear sign that he had, indeed, not thought about this possibility.

“I did not think she would be there, considering that you had given clear instructions for no one to allow her within a league of the kitchen.”

Thranduil gave a rueful smile. “Yes. And Charlotte is prone to ignoring instructions, or blatantly disregarding them altogether.”

Reaching for his cloak, Thranduil threw it over his shoulders, the dark material billowing around him like a phantasm of the night. Securing it under his neck, he glanced over his shoulder at the two elves.

“I shall go and check the kitchen. Galion, I want you to search the wine cellar just in case she found her way there. Maerwen…”

The elleth swallowed hard as Thranduil’s piercing cerulean gaze landed on her like shards of glass.

But as Thranduil stared at the visibly frightened elleth, he could not find it within himself to reprimand her when she had merely followed orders given to her.

_It had been no fault on her part that Charlotte had experienced a bout of wanderlust. Though, before he had met Charlotte, he probably would have given Maerwen a thorough tongue-lashing and have reduced the elleth to tears._

“After lunch you may collect Charlotte from my chambers and resume giving her a guided tour of the kingdom.”

Maerwen’s eyes widened with shock, for she had been expecting worse…much worse. But she hastily nodded her head in agreement. “Yes, my King.”

Thranduil gave a satisfied nod and swept out of the room, his focus now on locating his wayward bond mate.

 

ooOoo

 

Aranhil was seated opposite Charlotte at the table, taking down notes in his elegant handwriting as she described all her favorite dishes from her world.

His honey brown hair fell over his bent shoulders, partially obscuring his finely sculpted features that resembled a beautifully painted portrait. He was handsome, from his chiseled cheekbones to his strong jawline, and could almost be described as super model gorgeous.

_But vastly pale in comparison to Thranduil. Thranduil was like the superest of super models._

Charlotte wasn’t focused on him, though, but rather on the newest tray of cinnamon buns that he had baked. Well, she guessed they were cinnamon buns. _They certainly looked and smelled like cinnamon buns._

The tarts, admittedly, had been polished off quite some time ago...

“They are there for you to eat, my Lady,” Aranhil stated kindly, snapping Charlotte out of her reverie. Her cheeks heated in a blush when she realized that he had caught her staring at the tray with undisguised longing.

Charlotte shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the way her dress suddenly felt uncomfortably tight around her middle.

“Believe me, I would love to, but I don’t know if I have any more space for it. Reminds me of the time when I was a kid and gorged myself on chocolate…”

“Chocolate?”

Charlotte gave a dreamy sigh. “You have not lived until you have tasted chocolate.”

Aranhil could not help but smile at this childlike exuberance coming from her.

Deciding that she did, indeed, have enough space, Charlotte reached over and extracted a sticky bun from the tray.

“And how does one make chocolate?”

Charlotte paused, the bun halfway to her mouth, and frowned. _She had never really given much thought about how certain things were made. All she had known was that if she wanted it, she simply went to the store and purchased it. Here in Middle Earth, however, everything had to be made from scratch. It was a simpler, yet harder way of life here._

Placing the bun back down on her plate, she tried as best she could to explain how chocolate was made and what ingredients were needed.

This was how most of their conversations had progressed during the morning. She would describe a dish and he would want a detailed description. As she used hand gestures to animatedly explain things, she would get a sense of being watched. But each time she turned around the kitchen staff would be busy working on their tasks, their gazes downcast. Charlotte had to surmise that they were discretely observing her, ever from a respectable distance. They were curious about her, no doubt, but were exercising caution as was their nature.

“So…I thought I was banned from the kitchens,” she suddenly stated.

Aranhil glanced up from his scribblings, his cornflower blue eyes twinkling as he gave her a conspiratorial look that was accompanied by a wide grin.

“You are.”

Charlotte leaned forward, a smile of her own forming on her lips. “So why let me in? Aren’t you worried you’ll get in trouble?”

Aranhil straightened, his features morphing into that of a more serious nature. “I would not see you go hungry, my Lady. I could not, in good faith, chase you out…” He paused. “…considering that you are the future Queen.”

Charlotte’s eyes bugged. “You know?”

Aranhil gave an amused chuckle. “No, but you just confirmed my suspicions.”

Charlotte groaned, leaning back in her chair with a huff. “Some Queen I’m going to make! I’m far too gullible to even notice when I’m being played.”

“It was not hard to guess, my Lady,” he assured kindly. “None has been present by our King’s side since the death of Queen Calemir. Your appearance has generated a tide of change, especially when it comes to our King.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Aranhil looked thoughtful, but before he could respond, another voice rang through the contemplative silence; a voice so rich and deep that it sent shivers down her spine.

“As with the passing of each season, change is inevitable. Changes can promise to bring about hidden beauty – one must only open their eyes to witness it.”

Aranhil was immediately up and on his feet, his head bowed in reverence and his hand curled over his heart. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to find Thranduil standing in the archway, his presence like an electrically charged storm that could not be ignored.

Charlotte beamed brightly at him. “Oh good! You’re just in time to sample some cinnamon buns with me.”

Thranduil’s gaze flickered from the tray of buns and then to Aranhil, and Charlotte held her breath at the stillness that seemed to have descended upon the room.

After a few moments of scrutinizing the ellon, Thranduil finally asked, “You did not let her make them, did you?”

Aranhil glanced up to meet his King’s gaze, a shadow of a smile flittering across his features. “No, my King.”

“Good. Then I will gladly have one,” he stated, reaching for the one in Charlotte’s plate.

She smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger at him “Nope. You’re not getting mine after that insult.”

His eyes blazed with mirth. “Well, if you will not share then I have no choice but to take this whole tray…”

Charlotte eyed said tray, warring with herself, and then let out a defeated sighed. “I don’t know if I can even finish this one,” she declared, pointing to the dessert she had just saved from Thranduil’s clutches. “I ate a whole tray of those delicious honey berry tart thingies.”

Thranduil arched an incredulous brow and shot Aranhil a questioning look. The ellon gave a nod of affirmation.

Shaking his head, Thranduil took her hand in his own and helped her to her feet. “You are worse than that greedy moose. You’re going to give yourself a stomach ache.”

“But they were soooooooo good,” she enthused, obviously not caring in the least whether she suffered a stomach ache or not.

Thranduil sighed, but Charlotte noted the smile he was struggling to contain.

“Come. We have an appointment with Mithrenniel.”

Thranduil had her half-way out the kitchen when she pulled free of his hand and dashed over to the table, snatching the sticky bun off the plate. Giving the bemused looking Aranhil a wink, Charlotte ran back to take her place by Thranduil’s side.

“For the trip there,” she stated.

“Remind me to ask Mithrenniel for a tonic for the stomach ache you are surely to suffer from later on,” Thranduil muttered as he took her hand once more. The look of fondness gracing his features did not match his words of consternation, though.

As they exited the kitchen, neither noticed the wide-eyed expressions that passed between the elves that worked there. As soon as they were sure that the King was out of earshot, the murmurs began; whisperings of the change that had overcome their usually volatile King.

Aranhil plucked up his notebook, a thoughtful look passing over his features as he thought back to his brief encounter with the easy-going Charlotte. _She was proving to be a breath of fresh air – maybe this was something that the kingdom, and their King, needed._

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte was currently lying on a bed in the healing room. Carved pillars rose up on each side of the room, blending together at the ceiling to form an elegant arch overhead. The arch had been engraved into that of an ash white tree, the exact replica of the ones she had observed throughout the mountainous kingdom.

_Was this a tribute to their beloved Greenwood?_

Hanging lanterns dangled from the ceiling, each at varying heights, and cast a warm glow throughout the room. A cozy fire crackled in the stone heart, chasing away the chill. Charlotte suspected that the fire had been lit more for her benefit than anything else. The room smelled of various herbs ,whose names she would never be able to sound out let alone remember, and brought to mind that of a holistic store back in her world.

Thranduil and Mithrenniel, the healer, were in deep conversation nearby. Charlotte caught snippets of what was being said and was mildly surprised that he was revealing the whole truth about her to the elleth.

_It was probably necessary that the healer know of the whole situation so that she could better assess her_.

Charlotte closed her eyes, her hands folded over her achingly full belly.

_Maybe a tonic for a belly ache wasn’t such a bad idea…_

The bed was rather comfy, almost like settling into a downy nest of fluff, and she felt herself drifting off to sleep.

“My Lady?”

Charlotte cracked open her eyes and saw that the willowy healer was now standing by her bedside. Thranduil stood behind her, though being careful to maintain a respectable distance so that the healer could do her thing.

Mithrenniel’s features were kind and understanding; almost motherly with the infinite patience that shimmered in the pools of her brown eyes that were flecked with gold. Unlike the majority of Silvan elves that resided in Mirkwood, this elleth possessed golden blonde hair that was more akin to the elves of the Golden Wood. Her long tresses cascaded over her slim shoulders in soft waves, looking like spun strands of gold, and accentuated the long flowing white dress she wore.

“May I examine you?” she asked in her softly spoken melodious voice.

“Um, sure…do you need me to undress?” she asked, struggling to sit up.

“There is no need, my Lady,” she assured, gently guiding Charlotte back to her previous position on the bed. Thranduil glided into view, standing tall and silent to the side, though his sharp gaze assessed everything Mithrenniel did.

The exam was quick and precise, with the healer’s gentle hands gliding over Charlotte’s body, her eyes closed as she concentrated. Charlotte remained utterly still, half terrified that sparks were suddenly going to fly out of her fingertips.

_No, Charlotte,_ her inner voice chided, _that only happens in fanfiction._

Mithrenniel dropped her hands to her side and opened her eyes, the golden flecks within almost glowing like embers of fire.

She turned gracefully to face Thranduil and said, “Lady Charlotte seems to be in good health, though her belly is a bit bloated.”

“That would be from all the tarts she ate earlier,” he replied drily, folding his arms in front of him.

Charlotte grinned broadly. “Totally worth it. Do you think Aranhil can send some more up for dessert?”

_Her stomach ached in protest at the thought, but she wasn’t about to admit defeat to Thranduil._

Thranduil rolled his eyes, somehow making the gesture look regal. But as he met her gaze, his features became more tender and his face seemed to become illuminated with an inner light that was solely reserved just for Charlotte.

Thranduil then turned his attention to the healer. “And there was no sign of pregnancy?”

Mithrenniel paused, her brows furrowing ever so slightly. “Did you will it, my King?”

“No,” he replied in a clipped tone. “But considering the changes that Charlotte has undergone, I needed to be certain.”

Mithrenniel nodded in understanding. “There are no obvious signs to indicate a pregnancy, nor could I sense one. Her lack of menstrual cycle is quite possibly part of these changes that you mentioned.”

Thranduil nodded, somewhat satisfied. Mithrenniel, unlike the majority of his subjects, had some experience with healing humans and he trusted that her diagnosis was correct.

Charlotte sat up, her face now sharp with alertness as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Is it even possible for me to fall pregnant?”

The healer turned to face her, tilting her head to the side to indicate that she did not fully understand.

“It’s just, before these changes, I was unable to conceive,” Charlotte explained hesitantly, her feet jiggling in a nervous gesture. _Thranduil was certain that he would be able to give her the child she longed for, but she had to be sure that it would be possible in the first place_.

Mithrenniel studied her. “I do not know, my Lady,” she replied with honesty, though her features showed sympathy.

Charlotte let out a sigh, knowing it had been a long shot. _It’s not like they could do any tests here to find out, and she now had to rely on faith alone. Faith that the Valar had been kind enough to make her fertile._

“I guess I’ll just have to adopt Legolas and coddle him.”

Thranduil actually let out a snort. “Not going to happen.” He knew Charlotte was putting on a front, but decided to play along.

“Okay. How about a puppy?” she asked, hopping off the bed and taking his hand in her own.

“We have Tallagor,” he pointed out as they passed by Mithrenniel and started to head back to their chambers.

Mithrenniel stared after the two retreating backs, dumbfounded at what she was actually witnessing. _Was King Thranduil…making jokes?_ In all her years of servitude she had only ever witnessed the frosty façade he wore like a protective layer, and now seeing him so openly carefree with this human woman was almost astonishing.

The whispers had been floating through the Halls since her arrival, passing along to each pointed ear and carrying a promise of changes to come.

_Maybe these changes would prove to be promising_ , Mithrenniel thought to herself, her heart gladdening that their King had finally found happiness. It had been a joyful sight to witness.

 

ooOoo

 

Maerwen came to collect Charlotte after lunch.

“You have not yet eaten, my Lady,” Maerwen observed.

Charlotte glanced at her untouched plate of salad, fluffy buttered bun and pieces of meat she guessed to be chicken, though it could have been fowl or pheasant.  

“I ate too many of those tarts Aranhil made,” she groaned, patting her stomach for emphasis.

Maerwen gave her a sympathetic look. “He is an excellent cook. I do not blame you for overeating.”

Charlotte struggled out of her seat, suddenly feeling contrite that she had inadvertently caused her problems. “I’m sorry if I got you into trouble, Maerwen.”

Maerwen inclined her head, appreciative of the apology, though she hastily assured, “The King was rather lenient. There is no need to apologize, my Lady.”

“Where were you, by the way?” Charlotte asked curiously.

Maerwen hesitated. “I went to run some…errands.”

Charlotte noted the way the tips of her pointed hears turned pink and she grinned wickedly at her poor chaperone.

“You paid a visit to Bellethiel, didn’t you?” she goaded, nudging the elleth conspiratorially with her elbow.

The blush now extended down Maerwen’s neck. Finally, she gave a nod.

“Oh good. Would you take me to her? I want to see if she’ll make me some more bras,” Charlotte stated all chipper, and went to grab her cloak off the hook.

“She has.”

Charlotte glanced back at her.

“You’ve seen them?”

“Yes,” Maerwen replied, looking rather uncomfortable now.

“How did they look?”

“Scandalous.”

Charlotte chuckled. “Nice! Come, let’s go take a looksie.”

“Looksie?”

Charlotte fastened her cloak and grabbed the elleth by the wrist, practically dragging her out the room in her haste to see her new lingerie. “It means ‘Let’s go have a look’.”

“How…odd,” the elleth mused. _The way Charlotte sometimes spoke was strange, yet there was an endearing quality to it._

“You’re with me now – you’ll get used to odd.”

“Indeed.”

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte floated in the bathtub, letting the warm water envelope her and soothe all tension from her body. There was so much yet of her new life that she had to get used to, though she was trying to keep a positive front. She had no other choice.

But quiet times brought about memories of her own world, the only world she had ever known. As well as the last piece of her family she had left behind there. Her heart constricted at the thought of never seeing Carl again or hearing his gruff voice that belied a loving and affectionate man.

Gone, too, was the last remnants of her life, her home that she had grown up in. She had nothing left to remember her parents by – no photos or letters that she could gaze upon from time to time. All she had was just a memory that would surely fade over the course of time until it became nothing but fine grains of dust carried off on the wind, never to be seen again.

“What troubles you so, meleth nin?”

Charlotte startled, almost sinking under the water. Righting herself, Charlotte glanced up to see Thranduil standing at the edge of the tub.

She knew it was useless denying that anything was troubling her, as Thranduil could sense her feelings through their bond.

She swam to the edge of the tub and let Thranduil help her out. He then draped a thick fluffy towel around her with care and she gave him a grateful smile as she clutched it tightly around her.

“I was just thinking about my family…” She swallowed thickly. “I have nothing to remember them by. Not even a photo…”

Thranduil tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear before wrapping his arms protectively around her, drawing her close to him and just holding her. His silent presence was enough to comfort her and chase away her melancholy mood; the inner strength radiating from him letting her know that he would always be there for her.

A knock sounded at the bedroom door.

“That would be dinner,” Thranduil stated, though he made no move to answer the door, contented just to hold her close to him.

“You should go and get it,” she murmured against his chest, though she, too, made no move to break the moment.

“You are more important than food, little one.”

He rested his cheek atop her head and Charlotte closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him.

_Her lover. Her best friend. Her everything._

Finally, Charlotte glanced up at him and raised on tippy toes to kiss him. His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer still and he captured her lips. The kiss was slow and sensual; a kiss meant to comfort and reassure each other of their love and devotion. Charlotte snaked her arms around his neck, letting the towel fall to the floor.

Thranduil pulled back, a gleam in his electric blue eyes. “This brings back memories…”

Charlotte flushed as she remembered crashing into him when she had run out of the bathroom, trying to reach her room.

“I was hoping you were going to make a move back then,” she said coyly.

“I was very tempted,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers in a featherlight caress.

“And what about now?”

“Still very much tempted…”

“But?”

“I want to show you something first.”

Charlotte pulled back to look at him, noting the mischievous glint dancing in his features.

“Depends…”

“On what?” he asked.

“Do we get to finish what we started?”

A slow, salacious smile curled on his lips. “Oh definitely.”

“Then lead on, my King.”

“Still having trouble on finding an appropriate pet name?” he asked, handing her a silky robe that had been tailored for her diminutive size.

“It’s still a work-in-progress,” she muttered, knotting the tie around her middle. “Twinkle toes just doesn’t sound quite right.”

“No, it does not,” he deadpanned, causing Charlotte to laugh out loud.

Taking her hand, he led her into the room and guided her to one of the armchairs. Charlotte settled in the comfortable cushioning, noting that two shiny silver trays with matching lids had been placed on the table. And on a separate tray was her new favorite dessert of honey berry tarts!

A rectangular box was placed with care in her lap and Charlotte glanced up at Thranduil curiously. She felt a spike of anticipation course through their bond, and she felt herself getting caught up in the hype, a smile of her own blooming on her face.

_He really did enjoy spoiling her…she could get used to this…_

Thranduil settled into the other armchair and watched as she slowly lifted the lid. Charlotte gasped out loud. For there, cushioned in soft cloth, were a pair of black stilettos!

Her head snapped up, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’.

_He had somehow managed to have stilettos made!_

“I knew you liked my heels!” she finally managed to utter, a giggle escaping her lips.

“Admittedly, I have grown quite fond of them.”

The light bulb suddenly went off in her head: _Thranduil had been planning this for quite some time, probably while he had been stuck in her world_.

“And I thought you were busy with meetings all day. Here you were, all along, planning my wardrobe.”

“Meetings do take up a great deal of my time, but I take your wardrobe very seriously, little one.”

Charlotte lifted a shoe out of the box, marveling at the fine craftsmanship in the replication of her favorite footwear.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It will look even better paired with a piece of lingerie,” Thranduil hinted.

Charlotte smirked at him and then placed the heel back in with its partner. Securing the lid, she placed the box on the floor.

“Later. First, there’s a surprise for you,” she said, nudging her head towards the trays of their hidden meal.

Thranduil glanced at the tray and stilled as realization dawned on him. Charlotte grinned as she felt the spike of trepidation shoot through their bond.

“What did you get Aranhil to reproduce?” he asked guardedly.

“Spaghetti!”

Thranduil visibly blanched. “By the Valar, Charlotte! Do not put me through that ordeal again.”

“But Aranhil made it. Surely it will taste better if it was prepared by him.”

“Highly doubtful,” he muttered. Then, letting out a sigh of one resigned to their fate, he lifted the lid.

Thranduil’s crystalline blue eyes widened in surprise, for instead of the dreaded spaghetti, there was a perfectly made pizza. The crust had been baked to a crispy golden perfection and an array of meats were spread out over the surface, topped with a generous amount of gooey cheese. The smell alone was mouthwatering.

“Pizza,” he murmured, the word coming out like a prayer of reverence.

He slowly tore his gaze from the delectable sight before him and eyed Charlotte. “Is this what you were conspiring with Aranhil all along?”

Grinning widely, Charlotte nodded.

Thranduil slowly placed the lid back on the tray and Charlotte frowned as he stood and headed towards the door.

_Did he not like it?_

Opening the door, he called to Galion, the butler soon appearing before him.

“Kindly ask Aranhil to make some more pizzas, please. Six more shall suffice.”

Confusion washed over Galion’s features at the name of a dish he did not know, but he gave a nod and went to give the chef the latest instructions.

Closing the door behind him, Thranduil turned to face her and gave her the most dazzling smile.

“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” he stated, coming to stand before her and drawing her to her feet.

“Hmm, only for pizza?”

Thranduil’s good mood softened to that of more seriousness. Caressing her cheek tenderly, he murmured, “Thank you, my love.”

Charlotte sensed that he wasn’t just referring to the pizza.

_She was everything to him…just as he was everything to her. Two halves coming together to make a whole._


	45. Chapter 45

Charlotte awoke with a start. _Something had woken her up._ She blinked in confusion as her foggy mind tried desperately to clear the clinging remnants of sleep and brief disorientation. Some days she still woke up expecting to be back in her old room in her family home.

The curtains were drawn tight, swathing the room in a murky gloom. The fire had long since died down in the hearth, causing a chill to permeate through the room. Charlotte glanced over to Thranduil’s side of the bed and noted that he had already left, the sheets cold and indicating that he had been gone for some time now. Disappointment lanced through her, clenching her heart like a vice grip.

_Would it always be like this – waking up alone each morning, year after year, until it became nothing but the norm?_

A knock sounded on the door and Charlotte concluded that this must have been what had awoken her.

Drawing the blankets right up to her chin, she called out, “Come in.”

A moment later Maerwen entered the room, a tray balanced in her hands and her movements that of a graceful dancer.

She set the tray down on the table and came to stand at the foot of the bed, inclining her head in greeting.

“My lady, it’s good to see that it only took three knocks this time to rouse you,” she commented with a mirthful smile that made her amber eyes sparkle with an inner light. Today she wore her hair loose, the ends curling at the ends.

“How can you be so chipper at this hour?” Charlotte grumbled, envious that elves could spring from bed ready to greet the day with an annoyingly bright enthusiasm. “And why are you getting me up so early?”

“Did you forget? You begin your lessons with Hérion this morning.”

“No, I didn’t forget - but I was hoping that he had forgotten.”

“Highly unlikely. Hérion takes his royal duties very seriously. If you do not attend, then he will come to you himself.”

Charlotte let out a groan and rubbed at her face. _What the hell had she gotten herself into? And surely it was sacrilege to get up this early in the morning._

“Please tell me you have tea?” she mumbled into her hands, causing her words to come out muffled. “If I am to get up at this ungodly hour then I’m going to need tea. Lots of it.”

A clinking sound by her bedside table drew her attention and she glanced over to see that Maerwen had already placed a delicate china cup of tea and a saucer upon the surface, a somewhat smug look gracing her delicate features.

“King Thranduil forewarned me that tea would be the best way to get you up and out of bed.”

“How thoughtful of him,” Charlotte replied with a hint of sarcasm, though she did reach over for the cup, balancing it precariously on her lap.

As Charlotte sipped at her hot beverage, she watched as Maerwen set about flinging opening the curtains, letting in the far too bright early morning light. Maerwen was a bundle of efficient and contained energy, her features pinched with sharp focus as she set about her morning tasks of preparing Charlotte for the day. The skirt of her ivory hued dress fluttered around her ankles with each movement she made, the color conforming beautifully to the pale skin that peeked out from the dress.

Charlotte drained her tea and flung back the covers, deciding to get on with this already cursed day.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Bath time,” she grumbled as she shuffled past Maerwen and made her way to the bathroom.

_There was a lot to get used to in this life in the Woodland Realm, but she was dead certain that she would never adjust to getting up at the crack of dawn, no matter how many centuries she lived._

 

 

ooOoo

 

An hour later Charlotte stood in front of the mirror, about eighty percent awake now. Maerwen had selected a cerulean blue dress that had been embellished with ivory stitching that bordered the deep scoop neck and extended in a straight line down the front of the dress. The long sleeves were straight and form fitting, as was the bodice, yet Charlotte found that it was not constrictive and she could move with ease. She still longed for her comfy sweatpants, though, but had long since made peace with the fact that she would never see that particular item in her dresser. Not if Thranduil had his way.

A matching cloak bordered with the same ivory hued stitching was draped over Maerwen’s arm as she waited patiently behind Charlotte.

Charlotte had to admit that the deep, rich color of the dress bought out the brunette of her hair, which the elleth had skillfully tamed with oils and had pinned back with silver combs that had been designed to look like delicately interwoven leaves. She was devoid of any other jewelry or makeup, but Charlotte found herself thinking that it was not needed as the dress itself was striking enough and was a reflection of Thranduil’s impeccable taste.

She ate a simple breakfast of toast smothered with jam and a bowl of berries, accompanied by her third cup of tea. Not that she was complaining. Her stomach was still trying to recover from all those tarts and pizza.

Afterwards, Maerwen guided Charlotte back to the meeting room where she had first met Hérion. Her stomach knotted into a ball of nerves as they approached the doors, half afraid at what he had planned for her today. Charlotte still had no idea where she stood with the ellon, especially after their brief and confusing encounter, and knew it would take quite a while for him to accept her, if at all.

Maerwen raised a slender hand and knocked on the wood, awaiting a reply from within before entering, motioning for Charlotte to follow her.

Hérion was standing in front of the hearth, his hands clasped behind his ramrod straight back as he watched her with guarded grey eyes. His long chestnut hair fell over his shoulders, almost blending in with the deep russet material of his robes. The fire burning brightly behind him seemed to cast an almost ethereal halo around him.

“Thank you, Maerwen. You may collect Lady Charlotte after lunch,” he stated in a clipped tone.

Maerwen inclined her head and turned to leave. Charlotte was half tempted to clutch at her arm and beg her not to leave her alone, but that would have not made a very good impression, especially considering that Hérion’s esteem of her was somewhat…lacking.

The door closed silently behind her and silence descended upon the room.

Charlotte swallowed, her hands nervously fidgeting in front of her. Hérion’s stormy grey eyes flickered down to the movement and Charlotte instantly stopped, dropping her hands to her side. He had said nothing, but the censure had been evident.

“Please be seated, Lady Charlotte.”

Charlotte sensed she was being tested, but in what way she couldn’t tell, let alone figure out. So she went over to the armchair and sat down, Hérion’s sharp gaze following every movement.

Finally, he came to sit opposite her.

“Tell me, Lady Charlotte, what skills do you possess?”

Charlotte clasped her hands in her lap, mainly to stop from fidgeting. “It’s safe to say that cooking is not a skill I possess,” she joked, giving a nervous little laugh.

Hérion merely stared back at her, his alabaster features unreadable, and Charlotte instantly snapped her mouth shut.

_Did this elf even have a sense of humor?_

She wracked her brain for something, anything, that she was good at, but was coming up with a blank. It was a sobering thought, really, that there was nothing that she could claim to be competent at.

“Um, I used to be an accountant back in my world. I’m good at balancing ledgers.”

Hérion seemed unimpressed, or maybe he simply did not understand what she was talking about. _Did they even have a need for accountants here?_

“I, uh…I’m pretty good at shooting a gun.”

“A gun?”

Charlotte swallowed nervously. _Had she revealed too much? Well, too late now…_

“Um, it’s a device for shooting.”

“I see,” he replied slowly. He leaned back in his armchair and steepled his fingers in front of him. “And what of your archery skills.”

“Nonexistent,” she replied with a wince at the memory of the first and last time she had fired a bow and arrow. Now the crossbow had been easy to adjust to, but she highly doubted that Mirkwood had this sort of weapon. Maybe the dwarves would have something like that in their arsenol…but considering the animosity between elves and dwarves, it was highly unlikely she would ever get her hands on a replica.

“Is there nothing else? Embroidery, crafts?” His tone was not condescending, but his questions made her feel small and insignificant.

Charlotte slowly shook her head, steeling herself for the beratement that she was sure to come. Instead, he merely considered her for a few moments, his features thoughtful, before rising to his feet in liquid grace.

As he strode to the window, he stated, “It seems that I am going to have to start from scratch with you.”

_Uh oh. That did not sound promising._

“Starting from the bottom up, I will endeavor to teach you everything about being a Queen. For starters, your posture needs some work.”

Charlotte instantly straightened in her chair, suddenly feeling self-conscious. _She had always thoughts that her posture was okay, for a human, but compared to elves, she was a downright slouch._

“The way you seated yourself was also incorrect - that will have to be remedied. The manner in which you talk…”

“What’s wrong with the way I talk?” she blurted out.

Hérion turned around to face her, arching a perfectly shaped brow. Charlotte flushed, admitting to herself that he had a point.

“You speak as a commoner, lacking finesse and eloquence. You will have to learn to talk with articulateness and a certain amount of diplomacy.”

Charlotte scowled, not sure she appreciated being referred to a ‘commoner’, though, admittedly, she probably was.

“And you will also need to work on your facial expressions and composure. Openly scowling when something displeases you, especially in public, is not considered…proper.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Anything else?”

Hérion advanced towards her, his movements slow and calculating. He stopped just in front of her and raked his steely gaze over her form.

“Your appearance is surprisingly satisfactory, but it means little to nothing if you cannot learn to hold yourself in a queenly manner and follow royal etiquette.”

“So…you basically want to change everything I am?”

“Exactly!” he replied, though, to his credit, he did not smile at this notion.

Charlotte stared back at him.

“Is this what Thranduil wanted?” she finally asked.

“He requested that I teach you the ways of becoming a Queen. As a Queen, you are a reflection of not only our kingdom, but our King as well.”

Charlotte let out a weary sigh. _She could understand where H_ _é_ _rion was coming from and what he was trying to convey, but the thought of drastically overhauling everything that essentially made her who she was, was rather unsettling. But it was necessary. Everything he had pointed out had made her realize just how lacking she was._

“Fine. Do you want me to learn the royal wave as well?” she asked in a mocking tone.

Hérion tilted his head to the side, giving her a quizzical look. “I’m afraid I do not understand.”

Charlotte lifted her hand and gave a rather exaggerated version of the royal family’s infamous wave.

Hérion stared at her, actually looking stunned. Finally, he blinked once, coming out of his stupor. “That is rather…pompous.”

“Indeed, it is,” Charlotte said in a rather poor imitation of a British accent.

Hérion seemed at a loss for words. “Surely this royal wave is not a real thing.”

Charlotte sighed and slumped back in the armchair. _Keeping a rigid posture was killing her back_. “Afraid so. That is how the royal family in my world do things – with pomp and ceremony.” Charlotte drummed her fingers against the armrest. “Okay, we have our work cut out for us…”

“Quite the understatement,” he interrupted drily.

Charlotte chose to ignore him. “So, where do you want to start?”

“History lessons.”

“I beg your pardon?” Charlotte had been expecting for them to start on some of the things he had listed, but History hadn’t been even close to what she had expected.

“If you are to rule alongside our King, I think it wise that you should know our extensive history.”

Charlotte groaned. _No! Anything but History!_

“And how far back does this History lesson go?”

“Oh…a few thousand years should suffice…for now.”

Charlotte glanced up at him, seeing the twinkle of anticipation brewing in those storm grey eyes. _This elf had a vindictive streak in him. She just prayed he was nothing like her History teacher in high school who would drone on and on and on…_

 

ooOoo

 

The History lesson wasn’t half as bad as she had expected. Hérion, surprisingly, was proving to be a compelling and captivating teacher, and she soon found herself getting lost in the stories he wove with beautiful craftsmanship and detail. He had a talent for storytelling, his rich voice keeping her entranced.

But by the time lunch rolled around, her head was swarming with information. There were just so many important facts, details and names to keep straight in her head. It also didn’t help that most of the names were rather difficult for her to pronounce.

Thus far, she had Eru and Melkor down pat, but the names of the Valar and their various roles was all becoming a blur. _She really should be paying more attention, considering they had gifted her with immortality and had set in motion for her and Thranduil to be together._

They had then progressed further along with the timeline and concentrated on Melkor and the corruption he had inflicted, being the primordial source of evil in Eä. Charlotte could not help but compare him to her world’s religious version of Satan.

“Wait. So, you’re telling me that Melkor discovered and captured some of the elves and corrupted and twisted them, turning them into Orcs?”

“Yes,” Hérion replied, his facial expression turning into that of somberness. It was plain to see that it hurt him gravely that his people had been tortured and turned into hideous beings, their former selves but a memory. Charlotte briefly glimpsed this emotion, yet he did not delve deeper on the topic.

Then had come the tale of the Two Trees of Valinor and how Melkor had destroyed them, murdered Finwë and stole the Silmarils. Fëanor, in his absolute rage, had renamed Melkor ‘Morgoth’, which translated into the ‘Dark Enemy’. Leading an army of Nordor, Fëanor demanded ships from the Teleri, but when they refused, they were ultimately slaughtered. Thus, Charlotte received her introduction into the First Kinslaying.

Charlotte stared at Hérion with wide-eyed shock. “But…I thought elves were supposed to be all-wise and knowing and above the killing of innocents - especially their own kin?”

Hérion gave her a saddened look, the shame swirling deep in those grey eyes and making them appear even more stormy than usual.

“Our history is not clean-cut, Lady Charlotte, and is riddled with death and tragedy. Just as I am sure your own history has much of.”

Charlotte rubbed tiredly at her temples. “Yeah. We’ve already gone through two World Wars. I’m pretty certain there’s going to be a Third World War soon, if things carry on the way they are.” She let out a laugh, but it was without humor. “It’s like that saying: History repeats itself. It’s very true when it comes to the humans in my world. We forget and learn nothing from our past mistakes.”

Hérion studied her intently, her words somehow having struck a chord with him. _Yet you shall remember and learn._

But when Charlotte looked up at him, his features were carefully schooled, none of his inner thoughts showing through.

“How many Kinslaying were there in all?” she asked.

“Three in all. The one we spoke of was the Kinslaying at Alqualondë. The Second Kinslaying was the attack on Doriath by the sons of Fëanor, and the Third Kinslaying was the attack on the Havens of Sirion. But we shall have to leave that for another day.”

As much as she enjoyed this history lesson with Hérion, she could not deny that she was relieved by this news. She was desperately trying to process everything she had learned, and they had barely begun to scratch the surface. The thought alone was daunting.

“For now, let’s have lunch.”

Charlotte perked up instantly, idly wondering what Aranhil had prepared for her? Whatever it was, she was certain that it was going to be delicious. Rising to her feet, Charlotte stretched, her body aching from sitting for so long. She pointedly ignored the disapproving look Hérion shot her before he strode to the door.

“We are to dine in another room, Lady Charlotte. If you would be so kind as to follow me.”

Charlotte obediently followed, eager for food, and they made their way down the passageway until they arrived at a door at the very end. Hérion pushed it open and stepped aside to allow her entrance.

The room was a far larger than the other, and in the center stood a grand rectangular table of high polished oak. Six chairs with high backs and crimson cushioning were fashioned around the table. A richly woven area rug carpeted the floor, the bright red and gold accentuating the room. The wine-red curtains had been drawn open, letting in the sunlight that streamed into the room in hazy beams. Woven tapestries hung on the walls, each depicting a scene that must have been taken from a few of the elvish folklore. All-in-all it had an air of grandeur.

Charlotte made her way over to a chair, her eyes still roving around and taking in the whole room and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the place setting on the table.

_Crap! Crap, crap, crappity crap! There was no getting out of this now. She was, indeed, going to have to learn to distinguish between all the cutlery gleaming brightly on the table. How was she going to tell her butter knife from her fish knife?_

Her whole being rebelled at the idea.

“Are you ready to learn the proper way of dining?”

Charlotte plonked herself down on the seat, resigned to her fate.

“I had better get a diploma out of this,” she grumbled, giving Hérion a disgruntled look. He merely smiled back at her.

 

ooOoo

 

A knock sounded on the door.

Charlotte glanced up at Hérion, who looked as though it was taking every ounce of his indomitable restraint to keep his composure. To say that lunch had been a disaster was an understatement, and the arrival of Maerwen was a blessing in disguise, for both human and elf.

“You may come in, Maerwen,” Hérion called out, dabbing the corner of his mouth with his crisp white napkin and rising to his feet.

The door opened and Charlotte crumpled her napkin in a ball and tossed it unceremoniously onto the plate before rising to her feet, eager to get the hell out of here.

She turned around, certain her features were as stormy as Hérion’s eyes, and stilled, her breath catching in her throat.

Instead of Maerwen, it was Thranduil who stood in the doorway, a mirthful smile alighting his beautifully sculpted features.  He truly was a magnificent sight to behold and she felt the familiar fluttering of her heart whenever he was near.

A huge grin split Charlotte’s face and she practically raced into his arms, not caring in the least about decorum.

Thranduil wrapped his arms protectively around her, drawing her close and just holding her in reassurance. Then he pulled back and caressed her cheek, though he refrained from kissing her. _Public displays of affection were probably frowned upon,_ she thought to herself ruefully.

“My King,” Hérion greeted respectfully.

Thranduil glanced up at him. “How did the lesson fare today, Hérion?”

“It will take some…time.”

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder at the ellon, certain he had wanted to say something vastly different. _It would seem that the elves’ infamous patience did, indeed, have a limit._

“I have faith that you shall succeed,” Thranduil said smoothly, though Charlotte detected the amusement in his voice.

Turning his attention to Charlotte once more, Thranduil asked, “Care to go for a walk with me?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” she stated, grabbing his hand and getting ready to flee from this room.

A discreet cough sounded behind her and Charlotte paused in her hasty retreat, glancing over shoulder to see Hérion giving her a pointed look.

_What was it? What did he want her to do?_

“When a meeting is concluded, it is customary to bow your head in dismissal,” Thranduil whispered in her ear.

She glanced up at him, seeing the teasing light dancing in those hypnotic blue eyes.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. _If they wanted a bow, then she would give them one they wouldn’t forget._

Lifting the skirts of her dress, Charlotte extended her arms and gave an exaggerated curtesy. Straightening, she looked at a shocked Hérion straight in the eye.

“Satisfactory enough?”

Hérion blinked once. Then again. Finally, shaking his head, he stated, “Our next lesson will focus on the proper way to give a bow.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“And poise and manners, too, I think,” he added drily.

“You have your work cut out for you, Hérion,” Thranduil commented as he guided Charlotte to the door.

Hérion pursed his lips together, no doubt not relishing the thought. Then, looking Charlotte straight in the eye, he gave a perfectly respectful bow of the head, his hand curled over his heart.

“My King. Lady Charlotte.”

Thranduil inclined his head before ushering Charlotte out the door. They walked down the hallway, hand-in-hand.

“That was highly entertaining,” he mused.

Charlotte peered up at him. “You and I have differing views on what is entertaining.”

He merely chuckled. After a few moments, Thranduil spoke up, “I felt your abject disappointment this morning.”

“I just…” Charlotte paused, hating to sound clingy, but decided to be honest with him. “I just hate not waking up next to you.”

Thranduil remained silent as they meandered through the wide passageways. He had a thoughtful look on his features, and Charlotte had begun to suspect that he was not going to reply.

“I despise the fact that you do not wake up in my arms either, little one. But my duties to my kingdom require me to rise early and tend to said duties.”

Charlotte nodded. _She understood. Really, she did. It did not mean that she had to like it though._

“How were your lessons today?”

“Hérion and I are going to become the best of bosom buddies,” she stated sarcastically.

“Yes, I could feel numerous spikes of irritation through our bond, though there was a long lull of interest radiating from you.”

“That would be our history lesson. It was interesting, but there’s so much to take in.” Charlotte paused, deciding to voice what was on her mind. “The Kinslaying took me by surprise. I always assumed that elves were this peaceful race and your history was untainted with bloodshed, especially against your own kind.”

“It’s a part of our past that, admittedly, is not something we are proud of.”

A thought occurred to Charlotte. “Considering how old you are…”

“I know I should probably be insulted by that comment,” Thranduil interrupted.

Charlotte ignored him and continued. “Were you ever part of the other Kinslayings?”

Thranduil remained silent as they walked along, and Charlotte could sense the coiled tension within him that the memory brought on.

“I was…witness to and part of the last two Kinslayings,” he admitted, his features becoming clouded as his mind was deluded with the memory of so much destruction and loss of elvish blood.

Charlotte felt an odd chill permeate through her. Gazing upon Thranduil, it was easy to be fooled into thinking that he was young in human terms. But moments like these really brought home the truth of his age, as well as his extensive history.

_How much had he seen? How many wars had he fought? How much bloodshed had he witnessed and had been part of? How much?_

Being an elf of seven thousand years of age, Charlotte could not begin to comprehend everything he had gone through.

_Did his past really matter?_ Yes, for it had shaped him into the ellon standing before her. _Did it change how she viewed him?_

Charlotte stopped in her tracks and Thranduil stilled, eyeing her with guarded weariness. _She could not bear to witness the doubt in his eyes, for this newfound knowledge changed nothing. Absolutely nothing._

Closing the distance, Charlotte wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, listening to the sure beat of his heart.

Thranduil hesitated, but then enfolded his arms around her, drawing in the consolation as well as the reassurance she was offering.

_No, her love for him had not changed and never would._


	46. Chapter 46

They stood in there for the longest time, just holding each other in companionable silence and drawing comfort and strength from one another.

Thranduil stroked her hair, his movements idle and faraway, almost as though his mind was elsewhere, delving deep into contemplative thought.

Charlotte finally pulled away enough to peer up at him, rendered suddenly speechless by his breathtaking beauty in this very moment as he gazed back at her, his electric blue eyes swirling with profound emotions that he only reserved for her, and her alone.

A flood of overwhelming love washed over her through their bond; not only had he captured her heart, but she had ensnared his as well. She rose on tippy toes, snaking her arms around his neck, and he drew her close against him with a gentleness that she had not thought possible of him when she had first met him. He had changed from the frosty, haughty Elvenking with a formidable temper to match, to the considerate and tender lover who had now become her whole world.

Their lips met in a featherlight caress, and her eyes fluttered closed at the intensity of emotions consuming her. Even the briefest touch conveyed the deep-rooted love they shared, intensifying the emotion through a whole new level. The kiss deepened, their lips molding and conforming together in a sensual dance. The familiar stirring down deep in her belly began to grow, and the kiss became something more urgent and heated.

“Should we go someplace more private?” he murmured against her lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of her waist.

_Could she wait that long? The build-up of tension radiating through her needed a release, and soon._

“Is it far?”

Thranduil straightened like an uncoiled spring, his sights narrowed on a place in the distance. His thumbs stroked idly against her waist and she shivered that such an innocent caress could feel so sensual and stoke the flame within her.

“It is not too far, and it offers privacy,” he replied, his smoldering gaze locking with hers. “But it is not a room that provides much…comfort.”

Charlotte grabbed the lapels of his cloak. “I don’t care about comforts, Thranduil. I need you. Now,” she hissed.

Thranduil studied her for a moment, then a deadly spark flashed through his cerulean eyes, causing her to shiver at the anticipation it stirred within her. That brief glimpse had promised so much…

Swiftly taking her hand in his own, Thranduil strode down the passageway, Charlotte practically having to run to keep up with him. But she didn’t complain. The air between then was thrumming with an electrically charged current, threatening to explode at any moment.

They wove their way down winding staircases and across curving bridges. Her emotions now turned to that of nervousness as these arches had no railings and one wrong footing would plunge one into the dark abyss below.

“I will not let you fall, little one,” Thranduil commented just ahead of her, his hold on her hand solid and reassuring as he guided her across.

Charlotte trusted him impeccably, Thranduil’s words reassuring her that he would never let her fall. _He would always be there to catch her_.

They were now currently in a deeper part of the mountainous kingdom, the air constricting with a certain murky heaviness. Hanging lanterns had been lit, casting a dim glow as they traversed down the long passageway, their shadows flittering along the cold, smooth walls.

Neither uttered a single word.

Thranduil soon came upon a solid wooden door, the curved frame etched with delicate silver elvish writing. Charlotte didn’t have time to read the words, for Thranduil swiftly opened the door and pulled her in, closing it firmly behind them.

Charlotte openly gawped at the scene before her. They were now standing in a naturally formed cave in which a spring flowed freely through. The crystalline water streamed over the smooth rock formation that formed a semi-circle, the waterfall of gradual flowing water pooling into an indigo pool at their feet.

The sound of the flowing water echoed against the walls of the cave, ensconcing them in a private bubble, at least for a little while. The room was dimly lit with a few lanterns fixed onto the walls, and as Charlotte stood at the edge of the spring, the surface rippled by the flow of the waterfall, she had no way of judging how deep the water really was. Raking her gaze over the hard and smooth formation of rock that surrounded them, she now realized what Thranduil had meant by his comment that this room would offer no comfort.

_How were they going to do this?_

“This chamber is solely for my use and will offer us the privacy we seek,” Thranduil murmured from behind her, his arms encircling her middle and drawing her close against him.

Charlotte let out a breathy sigh as he swept back her hair and started trailing heated kisses along the exposed flesh of her neck. A shiver coursed through her body and she angled her head to give him better access, heated desire pooling deep in her belly.

Charlotte twisted in his arms, eager for more, and snaked her arms around his neck, her lips hungrily seeking his. The kiss, though tender at first, became seared with urgency, and the passion consuming them both was now more demanding.

Charlotte pulled back for breath before she tugged impatiently at the clasp of his cloak, eager to rid him of the material that was nothing more than a hindering barrier between them right now.

“So impatient,” Thranduil stated, a smirk evident on his features.

“Can you blame me? All that pizza you ate last night caused you to go into a sleep-induced coma and we didn’t even get to try out those new stilettos.”

The clasp finally came undone and Charlotte pushed the heavy material off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground in a crumpled heap by his booted feet.

“If I recall correctly you, too, were incapacitated from all those tarts as well as the pizza you consumed. I had to carry you to bed,” he replied evenly as his hands came up and made quick work of her own cloak, which now joined his own on the ground.

Charlotte gave him a sorry-not-sorry grin. “It was worth it, though.”

“Agreed. But do not think pizza will distract me this time,” he growled, his deep voice echoing through the chamber.

Charlotte gasped as his nimble fingers unbound the lacing of her dress with a forceful tug. He stepped back ever so slightly, his hands trailing up to her shoulders. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes as he took his time pushing the dress down over her shoulders, his fingertips leaving a blazing trail along her sensitized skin. With gentle guidance, Thranduil eased the dress down her body until it crumpled to the floor.

His gaze turned predatory as he slowly raked his hungry eyes over her as she stood before him, now clad only in her lacy black bra and matching panties.

A salacious smile tugged at his lips. “Rumor has it that Bellethiel has been inundated with requests for these new undergarments. Seeing her handiwork, and how tantalizing delicious you look right now, I can easily see why.”

In any other circumstance, Charlotte would have found this comment hilarious. But right now, she only had one thing on her mind.

“And you are still overdressed,” she remarked, stepping out of the dress pooled at her feet. As she sauntered towards Thranduil, his smile slowly faded and was now replaced with raw hunger, though he remained utterly still. As she closed the distance, his hands came up automatically to rest on her hips, his fingers tightening as he drew her against him.

“Something I am sure you shall remedy soon.”

She gave him a sly smile and gripped the edge of his tunic while Thranduil watched her with intensity brewing in his ice blue eyes. She slowly raised the material, but then paused when she realized that she was way too short to get it up and over his head.

“Need some help?”

She glanced up to see the teasing light dancing just below the surface of his luminous features.

“If you would be so kind,” she retorted impatiently.

Thranduil smirked and gripped the edge of his tunic, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. Charlotte took a step back and watched as he began undoing the laces of his breeches, his eyes on her the whole time. With deliberate movements, he finally pushed his breeches down over his slender hips, revealing himself to her.

Kicking off his boots and breeches, Thranduil straightened, now standing gloriously naked before her. Charlotte’s breath hitched at the sheer perfection that was simply Thranduil. He was a masterpiece; magnificent in every aspect, and she felt heated desire pool between her legs. Thranduil had the ability to affect her this way with just a mere look, and she suspected that no matter how many years passed, she would never grow tired of the sight of him naked.

Charlotte closed the distance, Thranduil instantly pulling her close against him as his lips captured hers. Her hands splayed on his smooth bare chest, Charlotte let herself get lost in the passionate kiss and the desire it stoked deep within her. She was vaguely aware of his hands in her hair, tightening their grip as he deepened the kiss with such ardent fervor that it stole her very breath.

Thranduil was the first to pull back, and looking her straight in the eye, she felt him undoing the clasp of her bra. He pulled it item free, letting it fall to the floor. Her breathing quickened as he slowly lowered himself to his knees, keeping eye contact the whole time as he slowly pushed her lacy panties down over her hips and then to her knees. Charlotte placed her hand on his shoulder for support as she stepped out of the undergarment.

Then Thranduil rose like a panther uncoiling from its predatory stance, and drew her into his arms once more.

A heartbeat, then two, passed.

Suddenly his lips crashed against hers with urgency, almost causing her to lose her balance, but his arms around her kept her grounded. As the kiss became more demanding, his hands wandered to her thighs and then in a swift motion, he lifted her up. Charlotte automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms wound around his neck as they gave themselves over to this almost animalistic passion.

Charlotte gasped as she became aware of being lowered into the water, the warm liquid lapping against her bare skin. She pulled back to gaze at Thranduil, his eyes darkened pools of burning desire.

Thranduil guided them to the edge of the basin, neither daring to speak and break the spell.

“Turn around and hold onto the ledge,” he instructed, his voice low and sensual.

Charlotte complied and with his help, turned around and did what she was told. She gasped as she felt him pressing behind her, his naked skin as well as his arousal stirring a deep yearning within her.

Thranduil swept back her hair from her neck and she angled her head to give him better access, shivers coursing through her heated body. His other hand glided to her belly, splaying across the expanse of her flesh and effectively holding her against him.

A moan escaped her lips as he nipped and kissed along her neck, the hand on her belly inching lower. His fingers would brush against her curls, but each time she thought he would finally touch her where she most desired to be caressed, his hand would glide up, only to repeat this action again. The teasing was getting frustrating.

He brought his other hand up and, gripping her under the chin, Thranduil angled her head towards him and captured her lips, kissing her with heated languidness and taking his sweet time to taste her. The passionate desire she had felt from him before had now morphed into something more slow paced.

Charlotte squirmed against him impatiently, eager for his touch; eager for more. And by the hard feel of him pressing behind her, she knew he was just as eager. Thranduil paused and smirked against her lips.

“Enjoy the moment, Charlotte,” he murmured, his soft lips brushing against her ear. At the same moment, his hand on her belly finally worked its way between her legs. She let out a drawn-out moan as his nimble fingers dipped between her folds, caressing and stroking her with the expertise that only a lover could illicit. The room soon echoed with the sounds of her whimpers and pants as he brought her very close to a climax, but not quite.

“Thranduil, please,” she pleaded, dropping her head back against his shoulder.

His hot breath against her ear caused her to shiver with anticipation.

“Hold on tight.”

His slender hands found their way to her thighs and he proceeded to part her legs. Charlotte held her breath when she felt him guiding himself to her entrance.

Thranduil slowly eased himself into her, taking his time to fill her. Charlotte dropped her forehead against the edge of the rock and groaned at the sensation, her grip tightening on the ledge.

A whisper of a sigh escaped his lips as he became fully sheathed inside of her and there was a poignant pause as he let her adjust to him. Then with a gradual pace, he eased in and out of her, his movements slow and gentle. Charlotte tried to wiggle her hips to encourage him, but his hands suddenly on her hips halted her movements; his grip tight enough to leave bruises. Then he resumed with the same pace, taking his time to make love to her.

Thranduil brought his hand to her cheek and angled her head, kissing her deeply. His tongue caressed against hers, the movement matching the rhythm he had set. This was not a moment for rough sex, but rather a tender lovemaking between two lovers. It was just as beautiful and fulfilling as chaotic sex, and soon she felt the coiling low in her abdomen that signaled that she was close to her climax. A low moan escaped her lips, only to be drowned out by his mouth upon hers.

Her orgasm sliced through her with more force than she had expected, especially from such a tender session. The cavernous room echoed with her moans and cries as her body quivered with the intensity of her climax. Thranduil’s thrusts started to speed up and become more erratic, signaling that he was near. He soon reached completion, her name sounding on his lips like a prayer.

Charlotte gradually regained her senses, vaguely aware that Thranduil’s arms around her middle held her securely in place, and his other hand was entwined with her own that gripped the ledge. His warm breaths fluttered against the back of her neck as they remained like this for a while.

Finally, she lifted her head and Thranduil helped her turn around, drawing her against his chest before guiding them back to the shallow part of the pool where the rocks formed natural steps.

Thranduil set her down with care and then settled beside her, drawing her close to his side. Charlotte snuggled against him, contentment enveloping her as she rested her head against him. They sat there in languid and comfortable silence, all the tension from the day having long since dissipated.

“Don’t you have to go back to your royal duties?” Charlotte murmured, detesting that their moment together was soon coming to an end.

“That can wait until tomorrow morning,” he replied. Kissing the top of her head, he elaborated, “I could feel your frustration growing with each passing minute and decided it was time to intervene.”

“It’s a good thing you did. I was ready to pitch a fork in Hérion’s eyeball.”

“I thought your History lesson had been intriguing.”

“It was, but the fine dining part was a disaster.”

“What happened?” he asked, his thumb stroking idly against the bare skin of her arm.

Charlotte let out a heavy sigh. “Each time I picked up the wrong utensil, Hérion would clear his throat in the most aggravating way. After the twentieth time, I told him that if he didn’t quit it, I was going to put the fork to good use and shove it up where the sun don’t shine.”

She glanced up to see Thranduil trying very hard to hide his amusement, though he did manage to give her a reprimanding look in between.

Eventually conforming his features to a more serious mask, he lectured, “Charlotte, there is a reason I have kept him on my council all this time. Hérion is wise and beyond loyal, and he may prove to be a useful ally to you. It would be beneficial if you take a step back and try to see things from his point of view.” Thranduil paused before continuing. “He has been tasked with preparing you for your role as Queen, and his endeavoring to do his best.”

“Sometimes I think he dislikes me.”

“He dislikes the fact that you, a human, are to be Queen - something that can cause dissent within the kingdom and amongst my subjects. I asked him to instruct you, not only so that you would receive the best training, but also that he would get the opportunity to know you better and his judgement on you would be somewhat altered.” Thranduil stared her straight in the eye as he drove his next point home. “Hérion may seem severe, but the fact that he agreed to tutelage you shows me that he still remains loyal to me and wants to do what is best for the kingdom.”

_It would prove wise to make peace with him._ Thranduil did not say this out loud, but Charlotte received the message loud and clear.

She gave a nod, feeling contrite. “Yeah, I know. I overreacted and I’ll apologize to him tomorrow.” She trailed her fingertips over the surface of the water, hypnotized by the rippling effect. “It’s just that it’s so stressful trying to remember and learn everything, and on top of that having to change every aspect of myself...”

“Charlotte,” Thranduil interrupted, his fingers under her chin drawing her attention to him. “You misunderstand. We are not asking you to change. _I_ never want you to change. But it is imperative that you learn how to act appropriately and in accordance with royal etiquette, especially when it comes time to visiting other realms and kingdoms. You, as Queen, need to uphold the image of one.”

Charlotte nodded. Thranduil had made a very valid point; his years of diplomacy and wisdom coming to the forefront.

“Which reminds me: we shall be visiting Dale in two months…”

“Dale! Really?!” she squealed, perking up quite considerably at this news, and almost splashing him in the face as she waved her hands excitedly about.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at her enthusiasm. “Yes. Reconstruction should have been completed by then and I wish to check in on things. Dare I ask what has gotten you all excited?”

“Bard! I’m going to finally meet Bard!” She had to refrain from bouncing up and down like an overenthusiastic child.

Thranduil rolled his eyes and made a mental note not to visit there too often. Charlotte’s ‘fangirling’ might create rather awkward situations.

 

ooOoo

 

Warm, breathy caresses fluttering against her neck stirred Charlotte from her rather pleasant dream. She squirmed against the sensation, letting out an irritated groan. A low, familiar chuckle chased away the last remnants of sleep.

Cracking open her eyes, Charlotte was greeted with the breathtaking sight of Thranduil watching her with a lazy smile adorning his face. She noted with a flash of irritation that his hair was impeccable – her hair, on the other hand, was probably a wild mess.

“Good morning,” he purred as he trailed his fingertips over the naked skin of her back, causing goosebumps to form in his wake.

Charlotte blinked in confusion as realization hit her that Thranduil had stayed to wake up with her. He had, indeed, listened to her grumblings yesterday.

A wide grin bloomed on her face. “Mornin’,” she replied, rolling onto her back. “This is a nice surprise.”

Thranduil’s features softened. “I do take your feelings into consideration, little one. Though,” he paused, leaning over to place a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. “I’ve had to compromise on this front and rouse you earlier than normal. I cannot forsake my duties, no matter how tempting you are.”

_That would mean that she was most definitely waking up at the crack of dawn now. Though, as far as compromises went, she could not complain too much. They would wake up together, and that’s all that mattered in the end._

“As long as I get the weekends to sleep in. Oh, and you have to promise to wake me up nicely.”

Thranduil brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I’ll endeavor to do so.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? So far all you’ve done is wake me up from a very nice dream,” she said with a cheeky grin.

She squealed as his fingers suddenly found the ticklish spot on her ribs and she thrashed about, trying to escape him as uncontrollable laughter consumed her.

Suddenly she found herself pinned beneath him; her arms held in place above her head. Her breath caught in her throat as she peered up at the Elvenking, who had very dark intentions written all over his features.

“Now that I have roused you and have you at my mercy, shall I show you exactly how nice I can be?” he growled, his deep voice laced with promise.

“Please.” She was trying hard, but failing miserably, not to squirm beneath him as her veins thrummed with arousal.

“Please what?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Please, my King.”

A slow smile formed on his lips and he ducked his head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

Charlotte found out exactly how ‘nice’ Thranduil could be and had absolutely no qualms with his methods of waking her up in the mornings.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte sucked in a deep breath. She had dismissed Maerwen a few minutes ago so that she could have a few moments to herself to straighten her thoughts and settle her nerves.

She raised her hand and knocked on the door.

“You may enter, Lady Charlotte,” came Hérion’s rich voice from the other side.

Charlotte turned the brass doorknob and pushed the door open, stepping into what she now associated as their tutelage room.

She closed the door behind her, noting that Hérion was seated in the armchair, his hands steepled in front of him and a contemplative look adorning his fine features.

Resolving herself, Charlotte closed the distance and came to stand before him. Hérion glanced up, a slight frown furrowing between his brows.

“I wanted to apologize for my actions yesterday, Hérion. I am truly sorry for the way I spoke to you and behaved – it was uncalled for and I know you were trying your best to teach me.” Charlotte glanced down and took another deep breath before meeting his penetrative gaze, hoping she was sounding as sincere as she felt. “I am truly grateful for everything you are doing. It’s just that this is all new for me and it all became rather…frustrating.”

Hérion stared back at her, unblinking, and she thought that he wasn’t going to respond or accept her apology.

Then he rose to his feet, towering over her - though that was not hard to do when one was as short as her.

“There is no need to apologize, Lady Charlotte. You are the future Queen, after all.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Future Queen or not, it is no excuse for what I said to you and the way I behaved. One’s title does not justify poor behavior.”

His storm grey eyes flashed with what could only be described as surprise, though the rest of his features remained unreadable. Finally, he spoke.

“I appreciate the gesture, Lady Charlotte.” His words conveyed his sincerity and she felt the tension ebb from her body. Hérion hesitated a moment and then came to a decision. “May I show you something?”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip, wondering what the elf had in store for her.

Hérion strode towards the door and Charlotte, after an initial pause of indecision, followed behind him.

After many winding and curving stairs that seemed to take them quite high within the palace, they finally came upon a passageway that was narrower than the others. Hérion made his way to the only door to be found here and, without knocking, he swung it open and stepped aside to allow her entrance.

Charlotte frowned in puzzlement but entered. The room she was now standing in was pristinely organized, rows upon rows of shelves lining the walls that extended all the way to the high domed ceiling. Books and tomes filled each shelf, too numerous to count. Charlotte dragged her gazed away from the vaulted ceiling and noted that there were four oak desks, each finely crafted from oak and gleaming to a high polish. Three of the desks were bare, but the fourth was piled with stacks of papers. A ledger lay open upon the gleaming surface, and an ink pot and quill rested to the side, waiting to be used.

“This is the finance room where all bookkeeping is done. Voronwë, the chief accountant, handles it all. I thought we might be able to put your skills to good use here.”

Charlotte’s head whirled in his direction, surprise showing plainly on her features. “I thought you had been completely dismissive of my skills, or that accounting wasn’t something that was needed here.”

Hérion gave her a small smile. “I did not intend to be dismissive, Lady Charlotte.” He paused, as though collecting his thoughts. “Your skillset would be beneficial to the kingdom and I had planned to introduce you to this room and Voronwë when your tutelage was complete, but I think a little assurance would be beneficial to you right now. But proper introductions will have to be made when your tutelage is complete. Guiding you into your new role is of the utmost importance – one which I would not see you fail.”

He hadn’t said it in so many words, but Charlotte could tell that their falling out yesterday had played heavily on his mind, and the fact that he had shown her this, as well as being open and honest with her, foretold that his attitude towards her was gradually changing.

Hérion, she realized, was not the coldhearted and arrogant teacher she had once believed. Underneath that asshole-ish façade lay a certain amount of consideration and Hérion, as Thranduil had stated, was loyal and would prove to be a true ally. And maybe friend.

But it went both ways.

Curling her hand over her heart, Charlotte bowed her head. “Thank you, Hérion.”

When she straightened, she noted Hérion regarding her thoughtfully. Then an actual smile graced his usually stony features and he bowed back, his chestnut hair falling over his shoulders. “You are most welcome, Lady Charlotte.”

Charlotte could immediately tell that this was a pivotal moment for the two of them. Respect not only needed to be earned but given as well. Their ‘friendship’ would be fraught with misunderstanding, hardship and clashing of personalities, but they had taken the first step into solidifying the foundations.

“But do not think that I will be lenient from now on with you. Your still have a lesson in fine dining today.”

It took every ounce of her will power no to groan out loud at this prospect, but she kept her composure and gave a stiff nod.

“I understand your…reluctance, but it is necessary,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. He seemed to instantly realize what he was doing and dropped his hand hastily to his side. “Thranduil plans for you to dine in the Grand Halls a week hence, and it is crucial that you are prepared.”

Charlotte regarded him. _Yes, as impossible as it seemed, H_ _é_ _rion really did have her best interest at heart._

Acting on impulse, she looped her arm around his elbow, choosing to ignore the way he startled at such familiarity, and they started walking back.

“If I curse or make threats, don’t take it to heart, Hérion. I said much, much worse to Thranduil when he tried to teach me to fight,” she explained with a wry chuckle.

“I’ll try not to,” Hérion conceded, and when she glanced up at him, she could see the shadow of a smile on his alabaster features. _He was actually amused!_ For some reason, this realization made her happy.

They had now come to an understanding with each other. The ice wall between was starting to break down slowly but surely.


	47. Chapter 47

“Quick! Hide me.”

Aranhil glanced up, momentarily caught by surprise as Charlotte scampered into the kitchen, looking wild-eyed and her face slightly flushed.

He halted with his efforts of mixing the contents within the bowl tucked in the crook his arm, and a smile quirked on his lips. “What has Hérion done now?”

By now he had grown accustomed to Charlotte seeking refuge in his kitchen.

Charlotte leaned against the white-washed cupboard, breathing deeply through her nose, no doubt having high-tailed it here.

She gave Aranhil a pointed look, one that said plainly: _need you ask?_

The chef grinned widely, showing perfect white teeth. Then, shaking his head, he resumed mixing. “Let me wager a guess: Hérion had you working on your posture today?”

Charlotte pushed away from the cupboard and pointedly slumped down on the chair, resting her elbows on the surface of the table and cradled her head in her hands.

“My back is killing me. I thought once we had progressed past fine dining, the other stuff would be a piece of cake.” She lifted her head, and Aranhil noted the tiredness etched on her features. “He’s like a drill sergeant, Aranhil; merciless and relentless in his efforts to torture me. This whole week I’ve had to learn to sit properly, talk preposterously, and learn formal greetings and etiquette. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she groaned.

Aranhil, taking pity on the human who was fast becoming akin to a friend, placed his mixing bowl on the counter and came to sit opposite her, making sure to push a tray of cookies in her direction.

Charlotte perked up instantly. Taking a sugar cookie from the platter, Charlotte bit into it, the fine crumbs dusting the front of her dress, though she paid no heed.

“Which excuse did you use to escape today?” he enquired.

Glancing over his shoulder, Aranhil signaled to another maiden working close by to bring over some tea.

Charlotte chewed her mouthful and after swallowing, she gave him a conspiratorial look. “I told him that I needed to use the little girl’s room.”

Aranhil frowned at the unknown phrase.

“Restroom, privy, bathroom, toilet, lavatory. Take your pick,” she explained with a wave of her hand.

“Ah,” he said, now comprehending her meaning.

Yesterday her excuse had been that she had forgotten something in her room. The day before it had been that she urgently needed to pass on a message to Maerwen. Hérion was no fool – quite the opposite - and Aranhil greatly suspected that the royal advisor let Charlotte get away with her exploits simply to garner a break of his own.

A maiden with sky-blue eyes and chocolate brown hair tied back in intricate braids on the side approached their table with a tray of the requested tea and set it down on the tabletop with care.

“Oh, I could kiss you!” Charlotte enthused, reaching for her already prepared tea. “Thank you so much.”

Charlotte was a regular visitor to the kitchen, and the rest of the kitchen staff had quickly learned her predilection of how she took her tea and what sweet treats she was particular to.

The maiden ducked her head, her cheeks tinged pink at such a proclamation, though a shy smile graced her youthful features. Charlotte’s odd mannerisms still took some getting used to.

Charlotte cradled the cup between her hands, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down. Taking a tentative sip, she gave an appreciative hum.

“Tonight, you dine in the Great Halls,” Aranhil stated as the elleth discreetly went back to her tasks.

“Don’t remind me. I’m nervous enough as it is.”

At her words, Aranhil scrutinized Charlotte with keen observation. The corners of her eyes were pinched, and her pallor had taken on an unhealthy, almost sickly tinge. Taking a sip from his own cup, he watched as she stared unseeing into her cup of tea, her half-eaten cookie now forgotten on the tabletop. She was, indeed, anxious; verging on the cusp of outright panic.

“You will be fine, Lady Charlotte.”

Charlotte glanced up at him and gave him a strained smile, one that did not reach her eyes and showed that she was not reassured in the least by his words.

“May I be so bold as to tell you something,” he ventured, placing his cup down in front of him.

“We’re friends, Aranhil. You don’t have to ask if you want to tell me something.”

Aranhil blinked, surprised at this bold and confident declaration, but he could not deny that he had fast come to view her as a friend.

Nodding to himself, he continued. “I’m under the impression that you seem to think that you will be met with resistance, and maybe even hostility, from all who inhabit the Woodland Realm.”

Charlotte carefully placed her cup back on its saucer and chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “I was given that impression, yes.” She glanced up at him, uncertain whether she should continue. “I heard that the elves of the Woodland Realm were more dangerous and less wise. I presumed that being a newcomer, and a human, would cause some amount of opposition.”

Aranhil leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his lean chest, and shook his head. “I concede that we were, at first, wary. But that guardedness has gradually shifted to curiosity.”

Charlotte sighed. “You make it sound as though you speak for everyone.”

A cheeky smile graced his features and showed his cute dimples. He unfolded his arms and leaned forward, giving her a challenging look.

“Look around you, my Lady.”

Charlotte obeyed, slowly raking her gaze around the room. The other elves were working at their tasks, their movements fluid and relaxed. Many were openly talking to one another in their soft-spoken voices, smiles gracing their fine features as they chatted merrily to one another.

“Do you think they would be so relaxed around you if they truly viewed you as a threat?”

Charlotte startled and looked back at Aranhil. She then turned her attention back the kitchen staff, realizing that there was some truth to his observation.

“But surely me becoming Queen would cause some sort of friction within the kingdom.”

“It would…if it had been thrust upon us without warning. I give King Thranduil credit for choosing to gradually introduce you to his subjects. It was a well-played and calculating move - one that is starting to pay off. We are seeing more and more of you each day and are coming to know you better.”

Charlotte cast her mind to the week that had passed. In the mornings she had her lessons with Hérion, but the afternoons she was free to wander and roam the kingdom at her own discretion. In the beginning Maerwen had accompanied her like a shadow and had even introduced Charlotte to some of the elves. As she had grown more comfortable with her surroundings and life in the Woodland Realm, Maerwen’s position by her side had now almost become non-existence.

Charlotte mulled over his words. _Was Aranhil right? Had Thranduil effectively become a Chess Master, moving each piece in this game with calculating precision?_

Aranhil continued. “Your public introduction to the kingdom tonight is not only necessary, but it will give the rest of the kingdom a chance to view and meet the woman who is proving to be a beacon.”

Charlotte frowned. “Beacon?”

Aranhil nodded. “Yes. A beacon. We can all see plainly the positive change you have brought within our King.”

Her frown deepened. “I think you give me far too much credit, Aranhil.”

“I don’t think I give you enough,” he countered.

Charlotte shook her head, refuting his claims. _She had done nothing. The only thing she was responsible for was falling in love with Thranduil. And he, in turn, had somehow fallen in love with her._

Her thoughts turned towards the feast to be held in the Grand Halls, where her grand introduction would be made. She suddenly felt queasy.

Aranhil reached over and gave her hand a reassuring pat.

“As for tonight, my suggestion would be drink lots of wine. That will settle your nerves.”

Charlotte looked up sharply at him, noting the teasing light dancing in those cornflower blue eyes. She shook her head, chuckling. “You’re a bad influence, Aranhil. You know that, right?”

Aranhil didn’t dispute her claims, merely grinning widely back at her. Reaching for a cookie, he took a delicate bite and chewed thoughtfully.

Swallowing his mouthful, he continued good-naturedly. “And if all else fails and you make a spectacle, it shall prove to be a great source of entertainment…one that I will hopefully witness.”

“Ah, but you won’t – you’ll be too busy cooking dinner here.”

His grin broadened. “So you think.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at his antics. _This was why she had sought Aranhil out – he had a knack for easing the tension from the day and settling her nerves with well-timed jokes. He often put a smile on her face with his humor and good nature_.

Draining the last of her tea, she stood and dusted the crumbs from her dress. “Well, wish me luck.” She was trying to come off as nonchalant, but there was still a certain amount of anxiety brewing within her.

Aranhil came to stand before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. His eyes twinkled merrily as he proclaimed, “When it comes to you, far more than luck is needed.”

She pulled a face at him. “Encouraging, Aranhil. Very encouraging,” she muttered as she turned to make her exit.

“I try,” he replied. Charlotte shot him a grin before disappearing.

“She is scared, though she is trying to hide it,” Alastegiel noted as she came to stand beside him. Aranhil glanced down at the elleth who had brought them their tea. She was a sweet-natured maiden with a pleasant and kindly disposition, and for her to voice her concerns out loud showed her worry.

“Yes, that she is,” he mused thoughtfully, all humor leaving him.

“Is there naught we can do?”

Aranhil sighed _. If he could help the Lady Charlotte with anything but advice, he would endeavor to do so._

“I’m afraid that it is now up to our King to guide her through this process.” He gave her a confident smile, but inside he was just as anxious for Charlotte. But he had no doubt that Thranduil would be with her every step of the way. The King’s love for this human was plain for all to see. And the more Aranhil came to know Charlotte, the more he could see why.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte sat front of the dresser, the gilded framed mirror reflecting back to her a woman whom she barely recognized. She was sickly pale, and her features were pinched as she desperately tried to hold it all together.

She tried to even out her breathing but was sure she was close to hyperventilating. Inside she was a quivering bundle of knotted nerves, and she doubted whether Aranhil’s suggestion of a stiff drink would aid in calming them. Nothing would help prepare her for what she was sure was going to be a disastrous night.

Maerwen was currently fiddling with her hair, pinning the wild locks back into elegant braids, and every now and then she would let out an exasperated sigh as one escaped from its clip.

“By the Valar, why would you cut your hair so short?” she muttered.

Charlotte stared back at Maerwen’s reflection. It was true that her hair was short by elvish standards, brushing the tops of her shoulders, and right now the length was proving to be a hinderance as the elleth tried to tame it into a respectable hairstyle.

“A moment of madness,” Charlotte replied with a tight smile. Truth was, she was in no mood for carrying on a conversation. Her flight instinct was kicking in big time, and all she wanted to do was run away and find a safe place to hide.

Maerwen glanced up, her amber eyes meeting Charlotte’s hazel. She remained silent, but Charlotte glimpsed the understanding that illuminated below the surface of her features. Maerwen turned her attention back to her impossible task, her pert nose crinkling ever so slightly as fierce determination now took over. _She was going to make Charlotte’s hair obey to her will if it was the last thing she did._

_She’ll be at it forever then,_ Charlotte mused to herself.

She let her gaze wander over to the ivory dress that now adorned her body, golden beading and stitching embroidered with expert hands into the flowing fabric, making it shimmer and glow when the light hit it a certain way. The long sleeves flared out at the wrists, blending in perfectly with the filmy skirt that fluttered like a lover’s breath against her skin. Matching slippers graced her feet, so comfortable she barely knew she had them on.

Her heart sank. There was no way she was going to be able to meld into the shadows and disappear into obscurity, especially not wearing such an eye-catching dress that had been designed to draw attention. She briefly wondered if this had been Thranduil’s intention.

Charlotte swallowed down the hard lump in her throat, willing herself not to throw up.

“Are you alright, my Lady,” Maerwen asked kindly.

Charlotte gave a nod, and then hastily shook her head. _No, she was far from alright_.

Maerwen crouched by her side, taking her ice-cold hands in her own warm ones.

“I know this must not be easy for you, Lady Charlotte.”

Charlotte gave a mirthless laugh, one that sounded choked to her own ears. “Quite the understatement, Maerwen.”

Maerwen gave her a small smile, squeezing her hands in reassurance. “Just be yourself, my Lady.”

“I don’t want an uprising on my hands, Maerwen,” she joked lamely.

Maerwen’s eyes sparkled, but her features remained impassively unchanged. “You need not worry, Lady Charlotte. You have endearing qualities that I am sure the others will grow to appreciate in time, just as I have.” 

“I doubt whether I’m going to win them over so easily. Back in my world, it was very difficult for me to make friends.” Charlotte swallowed down the lump. She was considered the recluse and as such, had not been included in the social circles at school or work.

“Have you thought that perhaps the qualities that your own kind frowned upon are maybe the qualities that elves value?”

Charlotte frowned at Maerwen, but only saw sincerity brewing in those warm amber depths. _Was it possible that her characteristics would be valued here in the Woodland Realm?_ Somehow, she doubted it, but nonetheless appreciated Maerwen’s efforts to cheer her up.

Charlotte let out a defeated sigh. “I’m terrified, Maerwen. I have never been good with crowds, and now I’m going to be placed in front of hundreds and I just pray that I don’t throw up. Not to mention that I’ll have to try and remember which blasted knife and fork to use.”

She hung her head, fisting her hands into the material of her dress. She drew in a ragged breath, quite sure in her heart that she was not going to survive this night.

Maerwen did not reply, and Charlotte drew in another breath, willing her racing heart to slow down.

She startled when she felt a slender hand upon her shoulder, a gesture of comfort. She slowly raised her head, her eyes widening in surprise when it was not Maerwen she saw reflected in the mirror, but rather Thranduil. He shone like the stars themselves as he stood behind her, swathed in a glorious silver cloak that shimmered like sparkling diamonds. The color complimented the platinum of his hair and brought out the electric blue of his eyes, making his beauty that more dazzling.

She then noted that Maerwen had discreetly made her exit.

“Your unease is almost suffocating in its force,” he remarked, though not unkindly.

Charlotte stared back at his reflection. “How is it that you are able to feel my emotions so easily, but I can only discern yours when you experience a very strong emotion?”

Thranduil came to kneel by her side, his cloak flaring around his crouched form. He raised a hand and trailed his fingertips lovingly against her cheek, his touch tender and warm. Charlotte leaned into the caress, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt a sense of calm wash over her.

“Bonding is not a natural occurrence amongst humans, Charlotte. With elves, bonding enables us to feel our bond mates’ emotions as though it were our own. Because you are human, you are experiencing it on a much dimmer level than I.”

Charlotte gave a nod of understanding, her brows furrowing together slightly as the warmth enveloping her increased in intensity, reassuring her that all would be fine.

“Are you channeling some calming vibes through our bond?” she asked.

Thranduil gave a hum of agreement, his hand clasping her own that rested on her lap.

Charlotte took another steadying breath, infinitely grateful for the calm he was channeling through their bond. Thranduil was a soothing balm to her nerves; her anchor as she weathered the stormy seas of doubt and anxiety.

“I made a promise that I would be there for you, little one. There are times when you need to be free to navigate through life here, but moments like these I shall always be by your side, holding your hand.”

Thranduil raised her hand to his lips and laid a tender kiss upon the inside of her wrist, and then with the grace of a feline, he straightened up and helped Charlotte to her feet.

“You look beautiful, my love.” His words were uttered with reverent honesty.

Charlotte still could not fathom how he could find her, a human, beautiful when he was surrounded by ellith that were infinitely more attractive than her.

His fingers under her chin gently guided her gaze upwards. “In my eyes you are the most beautiful of all, Charlotte. Do not ever doubt my love for you, for it burns brighter than the sun itself.”

She gasped as a cascade of warmth and love blazed through their bond, conveying the truth of his words. Tears sprang to her eyes, for being loved in such a pure capacity was enough to steal the very air from her lungs.

Thranduil slowly ducked his head, his silver-white hair falling over his shoulders to frame his perfectly sculped features. His lips brushed against hers, so light that she almost thought she had imagined it.

“You are my life, Charlotte. My heart beats with yours.” His lips pressed gently against hers, slowly and sensually kissing her with the same amount of reverence he had uttered.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the intensity of the moment and her hands came up to rest against his chest, feeling the sure and steady beat of his heart against her palm.

The kiss tapered off and she slowly opened her eyes to gaze up at him. “And my heart beats for you, my Everspring.”

Thranduil arched a brow, taken aback. “Everspring?”

“It’s a play on your name. Instead of being my vigorous spring, you shall be my eternal spring.”

Thranduil studied her for a moment and then drew her against his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

“I like it,” he mused thoughtfully. “Far better than ‘Twinkle Toes’.”

Charlotte chuckled against his chest. They stood there for a few moments, both contented just to hold each other.

Finally, Thranduil pulled back enough to look down at her. “I’m afraid that it is now time for us to make our way to the Grand Halls.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb idly stroking the soft flesh. “If you need more time, we can delay for a while longer.”

Charlotte breathed in deeply through her nose and steeled herself. _If she was meant to be Queen, then she was going to have to act like one. And that meant facing her fears head on and holding herself to the standards that was expected of her._

Taking his hand in her owns, she met his gaze with resolve. “No. I think I am ready.” She paused. “Just don’t let me fall.”

“Never,” he stated without hesitation, and Charlotte knew in her heart that Thranduil hadn’t just meant the literal sense. He would always catch her.

As they made their way to the Grand Halls, they were the picture of a united front. They weren’t merely a couple – they were a team, and together they would navigate through all the trials and tribulations thrown their way.

 

_Meanwhile…_

Legolas sat on a log, staring at the red and orange flames of the fire crackling before him, the flames warding off the shadows constricting around him as the night wore on.

His mood was somber, his thoughts plagued by the events that had recently passed.

Watching Tauriel mourn Kili – _a dwarf!_ – had brought forth the simple truth that his path was not meant to follow alongside hers. Not for the first time, he wondered what would become of her, and he knew deep down that her time in Middle Earth would soon draw to an end. There was naught to be done about it.

His musings drifted to the harrowing battle they had fought and won but would forever have a lasting impact on psyche. No one could be involved in such an event and not come out unscathed.

Which brought his reflections to his Ada. Something had been jarringly unsettling about his behavior when Legolas had last seen him. Thranduil had seemed as though he were barely hanging on by a thread, desperately trying to hold it together as he had bid him farewell. There had been a sense of desolation and utter heartbreak radiating from his very core and at the time he had assumed that it was because his Ada was mourning his departure. But the more Legolas dwelled on it, the more unsettled he became. _It made no sense._

The sound of galloping hooves in the distance caught his attention and Legolas turned his head towards the direction from whence the sound was coming from. His sharp gaze narrowed in on the darkness beyond, his hand hovering by the bow and quiver by his feet.

The sound was drawing nearer with a sense of purpose, and Legolas uncoiled himself from his position and stood swiftly, flinging the quiver over his shoulder. Drawing an arrow free, he notched it expertly in his bow and took stance, peering intently as he waited for whoever it was to make their appearance known.

The hooves slowed down.

“Who goes there?” Legolas called out.

There was a pause, and then the familiar voice of Nendir, the royal messenger, called out.

“Prince Legolas, it is I, Nendir. I come bearing an important message from your Ada.”

Legolas relaxed and lowered his bow to his side, the arrow finding its place back in the quiver at his back. But another tension seized him as he wondered what his Ada wanted. _Surely it was not to call him back home._

Soon Nendir materialized from the shadows and strode into the light encircling the small camp, leading his faithful grey speckled horse by the reins. Nendir was younger than Legolas and about a head shorter. His brown hair was flecked with strands of copper that dazzled in the firelight, and his chocolate brown eyes regarded Legolas with solemn respect.

Bowing his head in greeting, Nendir straightened and reached within his cloak, withdrawing a parchment bearing the King of the Woodland Realm’s seal and handed it to Legolas.

Legolas took the proffered message, dreading what he might find within. Deciding it was no use delaying, he broke the wax seal and his eyes scanned the flowing script written on the parchment.

Legolas stilled, the very blood in his veins turning to ice as shock and disbelief washed over him.

_By the Valar!..._

He glanced up sharply at the messenger, who was regarding him with a mixture of apprehension.

“Is this true? Is my Ada to wed a human?” he asked.

Nendir shifted uncomfortably. “He has not made the announcement yet, my Prince, but his intentions towards the Lady Charlotte are quite clear.”

Legolas blinked rapidly, not quite recalling another time where he had been reduced to dumbfoundedness.

Silence stretched as endless questions flooded his mind.

Finally, he spoke. “How did this happen? Has she bewitched him?”

Nendir seemed unsure as how to reply. “I do not think so, my Prince. She is but an ordinary human woman.”

Legolas glanced back down at the parchment in disbelief. He skimmed through the rest of the message. His Ada had not ordered him back home, but rather he had encouraged Legolas to continue with his mission of finding the Ranger known as Strider and return home when he saw fit.

Thranduil had also enquired about his wellbeing and there was no doubt that he missed his son dearly.

But Legolas could not concentrate on these minor details. His mind was still reeling from the the news that his Ada was to take a new wife – a human at that – and nothing was known about her. _Where did she hail from? When had all of this transpired?_

Legolas turned his attention back to the messenger. “Tell me everything you know about her, Nendir.”


	48. Chapter 48

Her heart hammered in her chest like a herd of galloping horses as they approached the looming doors that towered over them, tall and imposing. The gleaming wood represented the only physical barrier that stood between her and certain doom.

_Okay, maybe she was being a bit melodramatic, but still…_

She gulped, dread washing over her at what lay beyond. A sliver of golden light peeked out from under the doors, deceptively warm and inviting. And if she strained her ears Charlotte could detect the soft, dulcet tones of stringed instruments playing, permeating the room beyond with a harmonious ambience. Blending in with the music was the sound of laughter and muffled voices. Lots of voices. Voices belonging to the inhabitants of the Woodland Realm that she was not ready to face just yet.

_You have no choice. This is your life now. These are to be your subjects…_

Charlotte faltered at this thought. _Her subjects?! She could barely keep a houseplant alive! How was she supposed to rule over elves; beings that were infinitely wiser and, not to mention much, much older than herself? Ridiculously older…_

“What is going through your mind, little one?”

Startled out of her internal ruminations, Charlotte snapped her attention to Thranduil. He stood beside her looking cool and collected; completely unfazed as though none of this bothered him. 

_And why should it? Thranduil’s probably been doing this for a few thousand years, give or take a couple of centuries. He’s a pro by now._

“I just realized how underqualified I am for all of this.”

Thranduil shifted to face her, his hold on her hand firm and reassuring. His touch kept her grounded, settling her jumbled thoughts and racing heart. He raised his free hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking idly along the smooth contour of her cheekbone.

“Yes, that you are.”

She scowled at his lack of reassurance, but he continued before she could retort.

“Not one of us is ever fully prepared for such a role, Charlotte. Do you think that I excelled when I first became King?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately. “You’re practically perfect in every way. Remember?”

The corners of his perfectly shaped mouth twitched. “Well, I concede that I am now.”

“Modesty, Thranduil. Modesty,” she said with an accompaniment of an eye-roll.

His grin widened, but then he shook his head. “On the contrary, I made many blunders and mistakes – some of which I paid the price for dearly.” He searched her eyes with a dead seriousness that made her still. “I did not, and still don’t, expect you to slide into the role of Queen with unhindered ease. All will come with time and practice.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, his nose brushing against her own as he whispered. “You are not alone, Charlotte. I will be with you every step of the way.”

She breathed in deeply and gave a small nod. Thranduil placed a featherlight upon the tip of her nose and then straightened, shifting back to his place by her side.

“Ready?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the smirk flittering across his features. Then he schooled his features and nodded to the guards stationed at the doors.

_It was now time._

She sucked in a deep breath. The guards pushed open the heavy doors, making it look way too easy. If she had attempted it, she would have been heaving and grunting with the effort.

Then the very air in her lungs was stolen away.

They were suddenly ensconced in bright, golden light that flooded forth from the interior of the Great Hall, momentarily blinding her. As she blinked rapidly, willing her eyes to adjust, soft melodious music caressed along every nerve in her body, soothing and lulling in its promise of serenity. She closed her eyes, momentarily losing herself to the song that called to her very essence. Then sounds of conversation and laughter filtered through to her mind, and she slowly opened her eyes.

And openly gaped at the scene before her.

Ash white pillars carved to resemble twisting vines that snaked around massive tree trunks were stationed at intervals along each side of the room, stretching upwards to the domed ceiling and forming grandeur arches overhead. Numerous brightly lit lanterns hung from the ceiling, bathing the interior with their radiant light and seeming to Charlotte like a multitude of floating will-o-wisps.

The Great Hall stretched out as far as the eye could see, the largest room she had ever laid witness to. Charlotte was sure that not even the grand ballrooms in the palaces she had read about could compare to the sheer magnificence of the Great Hall. And at this very moment it was bustling with elves numbering well into the hundreds.

Yet their vast numbers did not make the area feel crowded or claustrophobic. There were even double rows of rustic wooden benches positioned on each side of the room, stretching from one wall to the other, yet there was still room for more.

Each table was laden with a feast that she had only ever dreamt about. There were platters of fruits, bread rolls, and trays of meat roasted to perfection and dribbled with a dark wine sauce. Baby potatoes baked to a golden hue, sweet carrots and scrumptious greens sprinkled with herbs and tossed in butter had their place on the tables. The combined aromas of all that food was tantalizing mouth-watering.

Charlotte noted with amusement that countless bottles of wine had been placed at regular intervals on the tables.

_What was a feast hosted by the Elvenking without wine?_

Her attention was drawn to the elves of the Woodland Realm, all of whom were impeccably dressed in garments of exquisite design, each one a picture of Renaissance beauty.

Conversation gradually halted as each member in the room turned to face their King. Then as one, they parted to form an aisle for Thranduil and Charlotte to walk down.

Charlotte’s grip on Thranduil’s hand tightened and she had to fight the urge to turn on her heel and make a run for it.

_This is it…_

She glanced up nervously at Thranduil and he gave her an encouraging smile before turning his attention forward. And then with a gentle tug on her hand, he guided her through the passage of elves, each inclining their head as they passed. Charlotte couldn’t help but marvel at the reverence and respect they held for their King.

They progressed further along, and Charlotte happened to glance to the side. A fair-haired elleth wearing a dress the color of deep plum raised her head and locked eyes with her. Charlotte frowned at the open hostility showing plainly in the other female’s features.

And in the blink of an eye, the moment was over as they passed by. Charlotte glanced up at Thranduil, who had his sights set resolutely ahead. It seemed that he had not noticed this brief exchange of animosity coming from the elleth. But Charlotte had seen it and she could feel the fair-haired elf’s eyes staring daggers at her back as they made their way to the dais, where a large table was placed and where they were meant to eat. Two high back chairs, that resembled thrones more than anything else, were upholstered with red velvet cushioning and took the center stage.

Thranduil led her to her chair and helped her into her seat before taking his place beside her.

This was a silent signal for all, and the room immediately became a well-choreographed bustle of movement as the elves made their way to their seats, conversation and merriment now resuming as before.

Thranduil poured her a glass of wine and then topped up his own, the crimson liquid smoky and staining the inside of the crystal glass.

Charlotte took a sip of the sharp, tangy wine, noting immediately that it was extremely potent. _She was going to have to exercise caution with this. Two glasses would have her comatose!_

“Is it always like this?” she asked, placing her glass down carefully on the crisp white tablecloth that was draped over the table.

Thranduil arched a brow in silent query.

“I mean,’ she elaborated, “is it always so formal at dinner time?”

“By formal, you mean…”

“The bowing,” she clarified.

“I am their King,” he stated simply, as though he could not see how foreign the whole concept was to her.

_But how different is it really back in my own world? Kings, Queens, sultans, tsars of old...each commanded a certain form of the bending the knee, so to speak._

Her attention was diverted to the feast spread out on the table, identical to the dishes she had spied upon her entrance, but before she could reach out and dish some up on her plate, Hérion’s sharp reprimand in the back of her mind sounded loud and clear.

She snatched her hand back and racked her brain.

_What was it she was supposed to do first?_

A few official looking elves, both male and female, descended upon their table and seated themselves with the elegance of their kind. Charlotte glanced over and noted that the chair next to Thranduil was empty.

_That must be where Legolas usually sits…_

Movement at her side caught her attention and she turned her head, only to find that it was Hérion himself who was to be seated next to her.

“My Lady,” he greeted, as he flicked out his napkin and smoothed it over his lap.

_Oh right! Napkin first._

“Hello, Hérion,” she greeted back as she smoothed out her own napkin over her lap.

She glanced up to see him watching her movements with an eagle eye. He then gave a curt nod, showing that thus far she was doing alright.

“So, was it by any chance an unlucky draw that you happened to be seated next to me?” she enquired.

Hérion reached over and picked up a bottle, filling his glass to the brim with the intoxicating liquid. Then turning his attention to her, he replied, “No, I requested to be seated next to you.”

Charlotte blinked in surprise. “Why?” she blurted out.

Hérion arched a disapproving brow.

“I mean,” she hastily corrected, “May I enquire as to why you chose to do so?”

_God, that made her sound way too pompous. She was starting to talk like one of those uppity and stuffy old British ladies as they gossiped away while sipping delicately at their tea that had been served in a fine, floral china cup._

“Your actions tonight will reflect upon me. I am merely protecting my investment.”

“In other words, you plan to stop me from messing up so I don’t embarrass you.”

“Precisely!” he remarked, flashing her a cheeky grin.

Hérion was not an elf who smiled often, so to see one on his features had a rather unsettling effect. No doubt it added a youthful and handsome quality to his features, but Charlotte had come to associate him as stern and unyielding. Certainly not playful.

“Now, Hérion. We are here to have a good time,” Thranduil chimed in as he filled his plate, shooting the royal advisor a pointed look. “Put aside all political trivialities and try and enjoy yourself.”

“Of course, my King,” Hérion replied smoothly with an inclination of his head.

Charlotte turned her attention towards the food spread out before her and proceeded to serve up a plate for herself. Ready to dig into her meal she glanced down and faltered. Instead of the countless knives and forks that she had grown accustomed to during her lessons with Hérion, there was only one knife, fork and spoon to be seen. She cast her eyes sideways at Thranduil’s plate, noting that it was similarly set.

She turned her head to question Hérion but stopped when she saw that he was openly smirking at her.

_The ass had known all along that fine dining etiquette was not needed tonight, and yet he had still insisted on tutoring her as such. This was a power play if ever she had seen one. She was going to have to think of a way to get back at him._

Picking up her glass she toasted him in a silent salute. “Well played, Hérion.”

His eyes twinkled merrily, softening his usually stern features, and Charlotte was floored by this rare moment of unguardedness. In his own way, Hérion was opening up to her.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall had now become relaxed as all enjoyed their meal, and Charlotte suspected that the free-flowing wine was also responsible for this. As she looked around her, she was starting to glimpse a different side to the elves of Greenwood. They weren’t the hoity-toity lot she had first thought and had a lot of positive attributes to offer. Underneath it all, she was starting to see that they enjoyed having a good time the same as anybody else, and she was curious as to what really went down when they let their hair down and threw caution to the wind. Part of her suspected that it would be an occasion never to forget.

Conversation flowed freely, with Thranduil entrancing her with tales of old as they ate, and Charlotte found that she was starting to enjoy herself. Her fears had been unfounded. There had been a few glances thrown her way, but they were all that of curiosity and intrigue. She had to surmise that they knew of her by now, if their lack of surprise and guardedness was anything to go by.

_Aranhil was right. Thranduil had played his cards well._

Dishes were soon cleared away and dessert was served. Charlotte grinned wryly as her all-time favorite honey berry tarts made their appearance upon the tables.

Charlotte was about to reach out for one when an elleth, the same one who had served her tea earlier on, came to stand before them with a covered platter balanced in her hand.

“My King. My Lady,” she greeted sweetly as she bowed her head. Straightening, she continued, “Aranhil sends this with his best regards.”

Thranduil gave a nod of assent and the elleth placed the tray upon the table before gliding away with graceful steps.

“Ooh, I wonder what surprise Aranhil has in store,” Charlotte enthused.

Thranduil gave her a fond smile and extended a long-fingered hand. “By all means, do find out.”

Charlotte didn’t have to be told twice. She shot Thranduil an impish grin and lifted the cover. She had half-expected to find pizza, but this…this was even better.

Chocolate, shaped into perfect balls, had been stacked into a pyramid, and she had to attest that the poise and grace of elves had prevented it from toppling over.

Placing the lid down with care, she reached over and plucked the chocolate ball at the very top.

“He did it,” she whispered, her tone that of reverence and wonder. Turning her attention to Thranduil, who seemed curious as to what she held in her hand, Charlotte exclaimed, “Aranhil figured out how to make chocolate!” It took every ounce of restrain not to squeal in delight.

She bit into the smooth, creamy delicacy, practically moaning with pleasure. She pointedly ignored Hérion, whom she was sure was giving her a look of disapproval at her lack of decorum.

“Oh, you have to try this, Thranduil,” she stated, offering him the half-eaten chocolate held between her thumb and forefinger.

Thranduil eyed the treat and then slowly lifted his gaze to her, and she was suddenly flooded with a sense of déjà vu.

_Uh-oh._ _This was going to be a repeat of the peanut butter episode._

Before she could react, he leaned over and closed his lips around her fingers. A furious blush instantly heated her cheeks as she felt his tongue swirl seductively around her fingers, sucking off the chocolate. Then Thranduil straightened up, a gleam in his eyes and a devilish smirk on his face. It had all happened so fast.

“Delicious.”

A croak escaped her lips as she sat there frozen. She was certain he had made a major faux pass with that whole episode. And in front of everyone, no less! She didn’t dare tear her gaze away, unwilling to witness the scandalized looks that must be written on every face in this room.

“Breathe, Charlotte,” he said smoothly before plucking up his glass and taking a sip of wine, his amusement quite obvious.

Charlotte snapped out of her stupor and hastily glanced around, but was stunned that barely anyone was paying them any attention.

But then she saw her. The same elleth who had glared at her when she had walked towards the dais with Thranduil. She was staring at Charlotte again with the same animosity brewing in those jewel-green eyes. Then she looked away, her face now a joyous mask as she conversed with another elleth seated opposite her.

Charlotte frowned. _Who was she?_

She glanced at Hérion who, too, was watching the other female, his brows slightly drawn together. She opened her mouth to enquire about her, but he gave an imperceptible shake of his head.

_Later,_ he seemed to convey to her.

Dessert now over, the atmosphere shifted, becoming charged with a subtle energy.

“What’s happening?” she asked Thranduil.

“Now the party begins,” he said cryptically, his eyes flashing with anticipation.

And indeed, it was. The space between the dais and the tables was immense, large enough to be used as a dance floor, and as the stringed music became livelier and more upbeat, the elves started converging there in pairs.

Charlotte watched entranced as they swayed and moved with elegance that would make a ballerina weep. But this wasn’t a formal dance, by no means. Each were moving to their own rhythm, becoming lost in the music as they gave themselves over to it. The more she watched the more she could not tear her eyes away. They were truly enjoying themselves, laughing and giggling as they twirled around, their eyes ablaze with joy and their features radiating nothing but that of pure happiness.

She found herself grinning at the sight and her feet started jiggling to the music.

“Would you care to dance?”

Charlotte startled and glanced up at Thranduil, who was standing and had his hand extended in invitation towards her.

Charlotte gulped. She had witnessed firsthand Thranduil’s idea of dancing and she did _not_ want _that_ to be on public display.

“Only if you behave,” she warned, rising and taking his proffered hand.

“Always,” he assured, but his tone belied that he was not being entirely truthful on that front.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him, but he merely gave her a far too innocent smile as he led her to the dance floor.

They made their way through the crowd and found a suitable spot. Thranduil turned to face her and Charlotte felt her nerves return tenfold. But as she hastily glanced around, she noted that once again no one was paying them any attention.

“It’s like we’re invisible,” she remarked as they started swaying to the music.

Thranduil drew her close, their bodies molding and conforming together as one as they danced.

“Invisible, no. Accepted, yes.”

Charlotte mulled over his words. _Had it been that easy to become accepted into their fold. Surely not._

“You seem surprised.”

“I…am.”

Thranduil bent his head, his lips brushing against her ear. “I think your friendship with Aranhil may have played a big part with regards to that. I am fairly certain that he has been vouching for you and putting in a good word.”

“I doubt he has that much clout in the kingdom.”

“He is well liked and extremely popular. You chose well in making a friend of him.”

Charlotte wanted to believe that Thranduil was right, and that maybe Aranhil had played a big part in her ultimate acceptance. But something told her that he was not entirely responsible for all of it.

Her sights drifted to Hérion, who was still seated at the table, and he raised his glass to her, a small smile gracing his features as he toasted her.

_And there lay her answer, as unlikely as it seemed. H_ _é_ _rion, being well up there in status, would have been able to sway the public opinion of her._

She glanced back up at Thranduil, who had a knowing look on his face.

_This was your plan all along, you sneaky bugger._

For the first time today relief and contentment washed over her in reassuring waves, and she rested her head against his chest as they swayed to the music, a smile forming on her lips.

_She had found love, friendship and acceptance in the unlikeliest of places. She had found her place in life._

ooOoo

 

 “May I have the next dance?” the smooth voice belonging to Hérion enquired.

Thranduil paused, giving Charlotte a questioning look. They had been dancing for well over an hour and she had been ready to call it quits. But this would give her the opportunity to talk to Hérion alone. She wanted some answers.

She nodded in assent and Thranduil graciously stepped aside.

“Of course, Hérion. I am feeling rather gracious tonight.”

“For that I am grateful, my King,” Hérion stated.

Thranduil nodded and then placed a kiss upon the back of Charlotte’s hand before handing her over to the other elf.

“I trust she is in safe hands?” Thranduil asked.

“Of course, my King.” To his credit, Hérion was rather debonair with his response.

Thranduil nodded, satisfied, and strolled away.

 “How are you faring, Lady Charlotte,” Hérion enquired conversationally as they slowly, albeit a bit stiffly, started dancing to the music.

“I think my outlook has changed with regards to elves.”

Hérion nodded. “Many outlooks were changed tonight.” There was no mistaking the meaning behind his words.

Charlotte gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Hérion.”

He remained impassive, though the tips of his pointed ears did turn pink. _Had her gratitude made him uncomfortable?_

“You handled yourself very well tonight.”

“Is that actually a compliment, Hérion?” she teased.

“Should anyone ask, I will vehemently deny it,” he teased right back, causing her to laugh out loud.

A few moments of silence stretched between them.

“Nice play on the whole fine dining stuff, by the way,” she remarked, completely forgetting to talk formally.

Hérion, for his part, did not seem to mind and was far more at ease than she had ever seen him. “I am old. I need some source of amusement from time to time, regardless of how petty it may seem.”

“And you happened to find the perfect victim to play your tricks on.”

“That I have. Though I wager that you, too, are brewing a few pranks of your own.”

“Count on it,” she stated, flashing him a grin.

He chuckled at that, but then Charlotte grew serious.

“Who was that elleth, Hérion?”

She did not need to clarify, for he knew of whom she was referring to. His features grew grim as he replied, “That would be Calenmiriel.”

She frowned, the name having absolutely no bearing on her.

“Calemir’s sister.”

Charlotte’s heart plummeted.

_This was not good. Not good at all._

 

ooOoo

 

“I see you are watching Charlotte with a sharp eye, Calenmiriel.”

The elleth turned from her position by the pillar, which was far off to the side and as far away from the crowd as she could get. She remained silent and unmoving as Thranduil approached her, her green eyes hard like the jewel they resembled. Eyes that were jarringly similar to her sister’s, though the pupils of Calenmiriel’s eyes were ringed with orange. 

Thranduil turned his attention to the spot where she had been staring a moment ago, his eyes finding Charlotte and Hérion dancing together in the distance. It was plainly obvious that Calenmiriel had been observing them. Or, more accurately, Charlotte.

A few silent moments passed before Thranduil turned his attention once more to Calenmiriel. “Do not think that I missed the looks of animosity you threw her way. I thought you were better than that,” he chided.

“And I thought better of you, Thranduil,” Calenmiriel retorted, her eyes locked ahead. She then let out a sigh and turned to face him. “What were you thinking, Thranduil? Look at her. She is but a babe.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously at her words. “Charlotte is far from a child, Calenmiriel. She is very much an adult amongst her kind, and I view her as such.”

“Maybe, but there is no denying that she is innocent.”

Thranduil frowned at her. _Where was she going with this?_

“How long will it be before she suffers the same fate as Calemir?”

Thranduil features morphed into that of stone, cold and unyielding, but she seemed unperturbed by his ire.

“Calemir loved you dearly. Did you know that?” she pressed. “It all but broke her heart that you would not bond with her, even after she bore you a son.” There was no denying the accusation in her voice.

Thranduil remained stoic in his stance as he stared down his nose at her.

“And you cast her aside as though she meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“You forget your place,” he ground out, not liking where this conversation was going.

Calenmiriel stubbornly shook her head. “No, it is you who have forgotten the transgressions of your past.”

“I loved Calemir. I loved her as best as I could. You know this, Calenmiriel. But it was pale in comparison to what I feel for Charlotte.”

Calenmiriel flinched as though he had physically struck her. “How can you say that?”

Thranduil let out a deep breath. “I simply speak the truth.”

She narrowed her eyes, peering at him with such scrutiny that it made him feel uncomfortable. What she saw did not make her happy.

“The rumors are true then: you have changed.”

Thranduil didn’t deign to respond, and merely glared back her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, her golden tresses rustling with the movement. “So that’s it then? You choose to replace your wife and her memory with this human?”

“Charlotte is not replacing Calemir,” Thranduil stated with as much tact as he could, but Calenmiriel was sorely testing his patience. “She is her own person and is forging her own position within this kingdom.”

“Then she shall be your downfall.”

“Was that a threat?” he growled.

“Of course not,” she replied smoothly, though her eyes flashed with heated fury.

“You had best tread carefully, Calenmiriel. I may have changed, but my intolerance for insubordination has not.”

“Duly noted.” She glanced over her shoulder at Charlotte once more, her nails digging into the flesh of her bare arms. She seemed lost in thought, but then abruptly turned her attention back to Thranduil.

“You are poison, Thranduil,” she hissed. “Everything you touch withers and dies, becoming a former husk of themselves.”

“You cannot blame me for your sister’s death,” Thranduil said, pain obvious in both his voice and his features.

Tears sprang unbidden to Calenmiriel’s eyes and she hastily glanced away. “But I do,” she whispered. Then her voice hardened as she continued “You could have done more. You should have done so much more, Thranduil.”

She pushed away from the pillar and stalked away, her words cutting like a heated blade through his very being. For Thranduil did blame himself for Calemir’s death. He blamed himself each and every day and would carry this burden of guilt always.

Thranduil ran a hand over his face.

_How much trouble are you going to cause, Calenmiriel?_ he thought to himself. _He was going to have to keep a careful eye on her from now on._


	49. Chapter 49

Thranduil watched as Calenmiriel stalked away, her fair hair that curled slightly at the ends swaying with her movements.

He watched her until she exited the Great Hall and then he slowly turned his head, unsurprised to see that Charlotte was watching him from the distance, concern plainly written on her face.

_He had been unable to temper down the intensity of his emotions that Calenmiriel had brought about, and Charlotte would have felt his ire and guilt buffering through their bond._

As his eyes locked with hers, that familiar sense of protectiveness came over him. Thranduil wanted nothing more than to shield her from the worst Middle Earth had to offer – even Calenmiriel. Though, the elleth was by no means cruel or vindictive. But still…

Knowing what needed to be done, Thranduil schooled his features into a perfect mask of indifference and swiftly turned on his heel to seek out a particular ellon who had sprung to mind.

Feren stood on high alert at his post by the dais, his sharp brown eyes scanning the festivities before him and not missing anything. A large part of him longed to join in with abandonment, but alas, he was on duty tonight and would serve diligently at his station.

He sensed his King’s presence long before his eyes caught sight of him and Feren turned his attention to the Elvenking, who was striding towards him with hard steel glinting in his icy blue eyes.

Feren instantly snapped to attention, somewhat apprehensive that the ire glinting in Thranduil’s eyes may be directed towards him for some misdemeanor he had incurred. Feren frantically racked his mind, trying to figure out where he had erred, but was coming up with a blank.

He bowed his head as Thranduil came to stand before him.

“My King?” he greeted with caution as he straightened.

“Feren,” Thranduil stated, his tone brisk as his gaze scanned the crowd of dancing bodies. The cascade of vibrant colors from the flowing garments cast a delightful panorama, almost causing a trance-like aura. He turned his attention sharply back to the Captain of the Guard. “I would like for you to keep an eye on Calenmiriel from now on. Give explicit instructions to the rest of the Guard that she is not to venture anywhere near the Lady Charlotte. Understood?”

Feren hastily nodded his understanding, inwardly relieved that he was in no imminent danger of receiving his King’s wrath. As for Calenmiriel…well, there really was no need for clarification. The elleth had much changed since the death of her sister and their Queen, her fëa now shrouded with bitterness and resentment. Thranduil’s precautionary measures were understandable, even justifiable.

Thranduil gave a curt nod, his back ramrod straight with the tension coursing through his body. His features were set in hard lines, his customary stern and haughty veneer having once more come to the forefront. Feren had not missed this side of their King, if truth be told. The subtle change that had overcome their King since Lady Charlotte’s arrival had been a most welcome respite. But now it was as though the oncoming storm was to return full force if matters weren’t dealt with swiftly and concisely.

Suddenly the gleam in Thranduil’s eyes changed and Feren swallowed. He knew that look and it did not bode well. For him.

“Tomorrow, after lunch, you shall begin training Lady Charlotte.”

Feren tried. Really, he did. But his apprehension must have been as plain as day when he hesitantly nodded his assent.

His apprehension only spurred on Thranduil’s particular vindictive mood, and he stated in a no-nonsense tone, “Not a scratch, Feren. Not. A. Scratch.”

There was no need for elaboration as to what the outcome would be if any harm befell Charlotte. Not good. Not good at all.

Thranduil turned swiftly, walking away with long graceful strides, his hands clasped behind his arrow-straight back.

Feren closed his eyes and let out the breath he had been holding. _By the Valar. What had he gotten himself into? Maybe it wasn’t too late for a career change…_

ooOoo

 

“May you be so kind as to relinquish your hold on Lady Charlotte and return her to me promptly, Hérion,” Thranduil stated without preamble or niceties.

Hérion, noting the thunderous clouds brewing below the flawless mask, bowed his head graciously, his chestnut hair falling over his shoulders like a silken curtain. Straightening, he turned his grey slanted eyes to Charlotte.

“It has been a pleasure, my Lady.”

Charlotte flashed him a toothy smile and ducked her head in the same manner, though hers still lacked the finesse that he was accustomed to.

“Hmm, still needs some work,” he muttered before turning on his heel and walking away.

_He’s probably on his way now to map out the next course for their lesson tomorrow_. Something told her they would be concentrating on her curtesy.

Thranduil took her hand in his own, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her against him. His hold was firm and almost verged on dominance. Charlotte searched his eyes as they swayed slowly to the melodious music that enveloped them in a lullaby of transcendence. Thranduil was clearly agitated and not even the joyous atmosphere surrounding them could yield his temperament.

“Thranduil,” she called his name softly.

Thranduil blinked and he met her inquiring gaze, unable to ignore the plea that was so obvious in her features.

Her warm, hazel eyes sought his, searching for some sort of clarification as to what was going on. What she beheld in the depths of his eyes gave her no comfort and only deepened the concern gnawing away at her.

She halted her movements, forcing Thranduil to do the same. She brought her hands up, tentatively cupping his face between her palms, and Thranduil momentarily closed his eyes at her gentle touch. Charlotte had the ability to ground him and calm the raging storm within where no one else could. Not for the first time he wondered what he had done to deserve her love.

_You are poison, Thranduil_ , Calenmiriel’s voice hissed in his mind. _Everything you touch withers and dies, becoming a former husk of themselves._

_Was she correct? Would he ultimately twist Charlotte’s fate into that of Calemir’s?_

Thranduil slowly opened his eyes and Charlotte’s breath caught painfully in her throat. The raw emotions reflected so plainly on his features was almost unbearable to witness.

Charlotte dropped her hands and Thranduil felt a sense of emptiness overcome him at the loss of her touch. But then she took his hands in her own and they stood there, two statues in the sea of bodies that surrounded them. There was no one else as they stared at each other – the world having narrowed in onto just the two of them.

“Let’s go back to our room and talk,” she suggested softly. The soft, earnest plea in her voice and called to him, breaking down the impenetrable wall, and he gave a silent nod.

She led him through the crowd, guiding him like a beacon to the sanctuary of their chambers. They made their way out of the Great Hall and followed the route back to their bedroom.

As they walked side-by-side, their gazes were resolutely fixed ahead, both silent and lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, they arrived at their chambers and the guards stationed at the doors swiftly opened them with ease, shutting it silently behind them once they had stepped inside.

Thranduil breathed in deeply through his nose and released her hand, making his way to the fireplace where a low burning fire licked lazily at the wood within. He stood there for a moment, clutching the mantle as he stared down at the flames. Then, pushing himself away, he set about pouring himself a glass of dark red wine, taking a sip. To his credit, he did not down the glass all in one go, though Charlotte sensed he desired to do just that.

Charlotte watched him from her spot by the doors, not making any move as she simply studied him. Thranduil was wearing his frosty façade like a protective cloak, but she knew him better. She could see the internal war raging within him – an inferno of emotions that Calenmiriel had enflamed.

_She needed to get to the bottom of this, and fast._

Hérion had not elaborated further on Calemir’s sister while they had danced, mainly because the abject guilt that had pierced her to her very core through their bond had halted any further questioning. The forceful wave of emotion had left her momentarily breathless and, admittedly, worried. Watching him now, she knew that she was correct to be concerned.

Charlotte deliberated the best way to approach him. It was obvious that he was hurting – deeply – and she wanted nothing more than to go to him and comfort him. But right now she did not know whether he would welcome her touch just yet.

_Goddammit! I’m practically his wife! I should be able to comfort him when he needs it, regardless of whether he asks for it or not._

Mind made up, Charlotte closed the distance that felt more like a gulf than anything else and came to stand behind him. Without hesitation, she molded against his back and wrapped her arms around his slim middle. Her hands splayed across the firm, muscular plains of his abdomen as she rested her cheek against his back, tears pricking to her eyes when he did not react.

“Please don’t shut me out, Thranduil,” she whispered. “Please talk to me.”

_What the hell had Calenmiriel said to him to turn his mood into that of dark and roiling turmoil?_

Thranduil let out a deep sigh and hung his head, his free hand coming up to rest upon her hands that rested on his stomach.

Then, placing his glass down on the mantle, he shifted in her arms so that he now faced her and gazed down at her, searching her face for an answer; an answer she wished she could give him, but she had no idea what the question was.

He raised his hand to trail a featherlight caress across her cheek and she closed her eyes at the almost mournful touch. When she opened her eyes again, she saw nothing but sorrow and shame reflected in those electric blue eyes.

“Calenmiriel is right: you are far too innocent and good for me,” he murmured.

Charlotte frowned at his words, her brows almost knitting together. She reached up and cupped his face between her palms, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Don’t do that, Thranduil. Don’t let her plant the seed of doubt in your mind.”

“The seed of doubt was planted a very long time ago.”

Dread furled in the pit of her stomach as Thranduil pulled free from her arms and snatched up his glass from the mantle, downing the ruby liquid in a few short gulps. Filling his glass again, he seated himself in the armchair, staring morosely into the flickering flames of the fire. He raised the crystal glass to his lips, but it seemed as though he no longer tasted the wine and was simply going through the motions.

Frustration bubbled up within Charlotte. _She wanted nothing more than to find out which room belonged to Calenmiriel, barge in there and give the bitch a good slapping. Maybe even some hair pulling and scratching…_

_Maybe later. Right now, Thranduil needs you._

She made her way to the other armchair and sat down, reaching out for his hand. Thranduil automatically took it and they sat side-by-side, staring into the flames.

“How can you say that, Thranduil? I do not doubt us, not even for one second. Neither should you.”

The minutes ticked by. She could not press him for an answer and would simply have to wait for him to open up to her.

Her thumb stroked back and forth across the back of his hand as she waited; silently conveying that she was not going anywhere and by his side she would remain, offering her support when he was ready to accept it.

She startled when his deep voice rumbled through the room, shattering the illusion of silence, even though his tone was close to that of a murmur.

“Calemir and Calenmiriel were exceptionally close,” Thranduil paused, contemplating whether to continue with this tale and dredge up the agony of the past, but the floodgates had now been opened and he found that he wanted (no, needed) to talk. He needed to unburden himself of his guilt, though absolution would not be forthcoming.

_Would Charlotte’s love still remain unwavering after she learns of what really happened?_ He dreaded the answer to that question, but he owed her truth.

“Their sibling bond was unlike any I have encountered before, the exception being that of Elrond’s twins, Elrohir and Elladan.” Thranduil momentarily closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he continued. “So close were they that when Calemir and I were wed, Calenmiriel chose to relocate here to be by her sister’s side.”

Charlotte listened with rapt attention, his baritone voice caressing over her senses and beautifully entrancing her with his tale, even though she knew this tale was going to take a dark turn.

“I think Calenmiriel resented the fact that she now had to share her sister’s affections with me.” Thranduil gave a mirthless laugh. “Not that she had to worry. I tended to avoid Calemir with dogged determination in the beginning.”

Thranduil took a long, contemplative sip from his glass, his eyes focused on the low burning fire before him. If Charlotte looked hard enough, she could see the red and gold flames reflected in those brilliant orbs, the imagery mesmerizing, especially partnered with his currently dark and brooding mood.

“The years of my indifference must have been hard for Calemir to bear and I am infinitely grateful that she had her sister to lean on.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip. “But your attitude towards her did change. What happened?” she coaxed gently.

Thranduil slowly turned his head to look at her, the glimmer in his eyes belying that of the tortured pain deep in his heart.

“The battle of Dagorlad.”

Charlotte wracked her brain, trying to remember why that name was so important. And then it hit her. _That had been the battle where King Oropher, Thranduil’s father, had been slain!_

Thranduil observed her shocked expression, which then morphed into sympathy, and he turned his gaze away.

His voice now sounded hallow and disjointed as he continued. “With my Ada gone, my mother set sail across the sea shortly thereafter and I found myself completely alone in my new role as King.”

Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, trying to imagine how difficult it must have been for him to take on the burden of the crown so shortly after not losing just one, but two parents. _The devastation he must have experienced…_

She knew firsthand what it was like to lose both parents. She had almost been crippled with her grief. She couldn’t imagine trying to rule a kingdom as well.

She opened her eyes and said sincerely, “I am so sorry, Thranduil.”

Thranduil did not respond, but he gave her hand a squeeze in acknowledgement.

“Calemir never wavered. She took on her role as wife dutifully and stayed by my side, even weathering my turbulent temper.” Thranduil paused in contemplative silence, his words hoarse with emotion. “I think it was then that my feelings towards her started to change. I started viewing her not as a cumbersome burden that was forced upon me, but rather as an equal; a partner who would stand by my side and rule with me. For the first time since our arranged marriage, I felt the stirrings of love begin.”

Thranduil sighed and after a brief glance at his glass, he downed it in one gulp, placing the now empty vessel upon the table next to his chair.

“But even though I had grown to love her, I refused still to bond with her. Part of me contemplated it – she was my wife after all. But it felt wrong, and I could not bring myself to go through with it. I knew this hurt her deeply, even when my refusal continued long after Legolas was born. I could see the hurt in her eyes with each passing day. And yet still I did nothing.”

Charlotte swallowed thickly. The hurt in his voice, and the haunted look on his face was profound. Thranduil was wracked with guilt.

“Is bonding between a husband and wife not…compulsory?” In her mind, Charlotte had always thought that a marriage between two elves would automatically bond them. _Maybe it was a different kind of bond. Maybe a marriage bond was different to that of a bonding of the f_ _ë_ _a_. There was still so much she had to learn.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Usually when elves wed a marriage bond is forged between them, and often this is accompanied by a bonding of the fëa as well because of the irrevocable love they share. Very seldom do elves wed and not form this bond.”

Charlotte nodded. It made sense that Thranduil wouldn’t bond with Calemir, at least not in the beginning, because their marriage was not borne from love but rather forced upon them.

“So…you didn’t form this bond with Calemir because you…didn’t truly love her?”

“I came to love her, yes. But truly? No.” It was stated matter-of-factly.

Charlotte chewed on her bottom lip. The fact that Thranduil bonded with her, and in such a short amount of time, was a true testament of how deep his love for her ran. If she had harbored any doubts before, they were now swiftly cast aside. But she could feel no sense of elation at this revelation, especially not right now with what he was telling her.

“But Calemir must have loved you, truly loved you, if she wanted to form this bond with you.”

Thranduil swallowed and gave a slow nod of his head. The words that followed came out in a broken whisper. “Yes. That she did.”

Charlotte’s heart broke, not only for Thranduil, but also for the Elvenqueen and the hardship she must have endured. Unrequited love was brutal at best.

“Calenmiriel confronted me more times than I care to admit. There’s no denying that she was loyal to her sister and loved her dearly. Calemir’s pain must have been heartbreaking for her to bear witness to, and I have my suspicions that there were many occasions where Calemir wept upon her shoulder. A shoulder of comfort I should have provided as her husband.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it, not quite knowing what to say. _What could she say?_ Her viewpoint towards Calenmiriel was changing. She could comprehend why the elleth was so bitter and resentful, and it especially explained her attitude towards Charlotte this night. _How terrible must it have been to watch your sister cry and being utterly helpless to change the heart of the one inflicting her pain?_

But she could also understand where Thranduil was coming from. If she had been in the same position as he, she doubted she would have handled it any better.

“Then, one night, Calemir stormed into our chambers with a fierceness I had never witnessed from her before. She was usually so calm and collected, her words always softly spoken. But she had finally had enough. She pushed me for an answer, an explanation as to why I would not bond with her, her voice rising with each passing minute. Finally, I snapped and told her that I would never bond with her. I told her she was a fool to think that I truly loved her.”

Tears stung her eyes at his admittance. “Oh, Thranduil.”

Thranduil bowed his head in shame. Regret mingled with a heaping of overwhelming contrition.

He breathed in a shuddering breath. “She fled through the night, alone. At first, I assumed that she had run off somewhere in the kingdom, maybe to her sister’s chambers, and thought nothing more of it. But soon a guard came running up to me, telling me that she had fled past the safety perimeters of the forest. I immediately sent out a search party to bring her back.”

Thranduil closed his eyes in pain. “They did not return. I, along with a large regiment of my army, set out and soon came upon the slain bodies of my soldiers. We searched and searched and soon found a trail that belonged to Calemir – a trail that led to Mount Gundabad.” Thranduil swallowed thickly. “We could not infiltrate the fortress, hard as we tried.”

A darkness shrouded his features and Charlotte could just imagine the vicious battle that had ensued; elves pitted against Orcs in a futile attempt to save the Queen.

“Eventually we were forced to retreat. The evil that lurks within that foul place is unimaginable and too great and we barely escaped with our lives.” His hand tightened around hers, and when she glanced at him, she saw that his features were grave. “I never did find her body. When I returned, Calenmiriel completely broke upon hearing the news – her grief so great that I thought she would fade from it. She blamed me, as well she should have. I essentially drove her sister to her ultimate death.”

Thranduil sighed and cast his gaze to her. “Calenmiriel is right: I am poison.”

The ache in her heart intensified and Charlotte rose to her feet, scooting onto Thranduil’s lap without a second thought. She cupped his face between her palms, peering intently at him.

“Look at me, Thranduil,” she urged, blinking back the tears as he stared back at her with a haunted look that she wanted to erase permanently. “You are not poison. You hear me? You are not the elf you used to be. I know you, and you are far from that elf you described. Maybe you were once that ellon, but not anymore. I have felt nothing but love and compassion and cherishment from you. You are my light. My Everspring.”

Thranduil stared back at her blankly, as though he had not heard her words. “How long will it be before you suffer the same fate as Calemir?”

Charlotte frowned. “Is that what Calenmiriel told you?”

He remained silent, but it was answer enough. Charlotte shook her head. “Do not listen to her, Thranduil. I beg of you. Do not make her doubt what we have. Do not make her doubt who you are.”

His hands finally came up to wrap around her waist. “I do not doubt what we have, Charlotte, but Calenmiriel does speak the truth. My past transgressions were deplorable, to say the least, and I am fearful for what shall become of you.”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, Thranduil. The past is just that – the past. We are in the present, here and now, and what counts is who we are now. I know without a doubt that you would never hurt me.” She sighed. This was going to be painful, but it needed to be said. “Yes, your actions pushed Calemir away, but she knew how dangerous it was to cross the safety perimeters, and yet she still chose to do so. You cannot blame yourself for that, Thranduil. And neither should Calenmiriel.”

Thranduil drew her against him and they sat there for the longest time just holding each other. Charlotte wondered if her words had gotten through to him. She certainly hoped so.

She pulled away enough to gaze back at him, her hand coming up to rest over his heart. “I love you, Thranduil, and I know you are no longer that same ellon you used to be. I just hope Calenmiriel will realize that soon enough.”

His hand came up to rest upon hers that lay over his heart. “I hope so, too, little one. I hope so, too.”

“Do you think Calenmiriel will try anything?”

“Calenmiriel is not cruel nor vindictive. She is holding onto the past and is still grieving and hurting. Her judgement is clouded, and she chooses to lash out. Unfortunately, that extends to me. And possibly you.”

“Should I be worried?” The last thing Charlotte wanted was another Eric saga on her hands.

Thranduil mulled over her question. “I have not known her to be outright malicious, but rather outspoken with her emotions and feelings. When something bothers her, she does not hold back in letting one know exactly what she thinks.”

Charlotte watched as the guilt resurfaced in his eyes. _Calenmiriel’s words had definitely cut him to the quick._

“Thranduil, you tried everything to get Calemir back. You need to stop carrying this guilt, otherwise it’s going to eat you up from the inside. Hey, look at me.”

Thranduil met her gaze.

Charlotte closed the distance, brushing her lips against his, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt his arms tighten around her, almost as though she were his anchor that he clung to. She kissed him, pouring all her love and assurance into this act.

“If you want, I’ll march right down to Calenmiriel’s room and bitchslap her into next week,” she said as she pulled back.

His lips twitched, amusement flashing in his cerulean eyes.

“As much as I appreciate the offer, my money would be on Calenmiriel winning the fight.”

Charlotte merely smiled back, more from relief that he was returning back to his usual self.

“Ah, but I scratch and bite. And pull hair. I don’t think she will be prepared for that.”

The corners of his mouth slowly curved up. “My money would still be on her winning. Which reminds me: tomorrow after lunch you shall begin your lessons with Feren.”

“For what?”

“Combat training.”

Charlotte groaned with her displeasure at this horrible idea. “Please tell me he isn’t anything like you?”

“I should certainly hope not,” he stated with mock affront. “I was lenient on you, Charlotte.” She raised a brow, showing that she clearly did not believe this for a minute. He grinned and then continued. “I should warn, though, I have instructed Feren not to go so easy on you and train you to the fullest.”

Charlotte pursed her lips together, but looking at the light returning to his eyes, her features softened. “Are you okay now?”

Thranduil’s hand trailed up her back and cupped the back of her head, drawing her to him.

“When I am with you, always,” he whispered against her lips before capturing them.

As the kiss intensified, she could feel his confidence returning, and she felt a lightness take over her heart at this. _This was the Elvenking she had fallen in love with and nothing would come between the loved they shared. Nothing_.


	50. Chapter 50

Charlotte’s eyes fluttered open. Sleep had been elusive this night, and she suspected that it would remain so. All that Thranduil had told her weighed heavy upon her mind and heart, seeping into the recesses of her consciousness and plaguing her dreams.

Her eyes gradually adjusted to the gloom permeating the room. The fire had died down to glowing embers in the hearth adding very little warmth to this night.

She peered up at Thranduil. They were lying on their sides facing each other, limbs entangled as they held fast onto each other in sleep. As she stared at him, she was struck by this rare moment of peace that veiled his features, the troubles of the world cast away – if only in sleep. She knew that when he awoke, his burdens would return, and so too would the stony veneer that he often shrouded himself in.

_Not with you, Charlotte,_ she thought to herself, warmth settling deep within her. _Thranduil is different when he is with you, showing nothing but love, honesty and openness. He loves you with every fiber of his being…_

Her heart swelled with the overpowering love she held for him. She did not doubt for a second her feelings for him, or his feelings for her. _But last night_ …admittedly, part of her had been deeply concerned by what he had told her. He had unmasked the ellon he had once been, but she stood by her convictions: Thranduil was no longer that elf.

From gentle caresses to expressions of love, he let her know exactly how much he cherished and valued her – worshipped her, even. She could feel it deep within her bones: Thranduil was dedicated to her in every aspect; in every way imaginable. He was hers, just as much as she was his.

She lifted her hand and trailed her fingertips along the smooth and flawless contours of his cheek, her fingers tracing down his jawline and stopping at his chin. Her eyes flittered to his mouth. Delectable lips that could illicit such passion that it left her reeling or capture her with profound tenderness that it made her heart ache.

_Underneath that frosty exterior lay a torrent of feelings and emotions…_

His hand upon her hip twitched and her breath caught in her throat. Charlotte slowly lifted her gaze to see him watching her with iced fire simmering in his eyes. They swirled with an unreadable emotion and the intensity with which he watched her made her feel as though he were reading each and every thought that entered her head.

Then he slowly closed the distance, inch by agonizing inch. His lips grazed against hers, unhurried yet seeking assurance at the same time. It was sweet torture at how emotional this chaste kiss could be.

Thranduil pulled back slightly, gazing down at her with an echoing pain reflected in his features. “Say you’ll never leave me.”

Charlotte raised her hand, caressing his cheek in a featherlight touch. He leaned into her caress, his eyes fluttering closed. “Never,” she whispered her vow.

Thranduil opened his eyes and then captured her lips in a sensual kiss. His arms snaked around her, drawing her close as he sought to make her his; to reassure himself that she was truly his. She knew she would do everything in her power to chase away his unfounded fears, now and for always.

The early morning bore witness to their lovemaking as she gave herself over to him completely. They clutched to each other desperately, as though they were drowning in their raw emotions, and came together as one – heart, body and soul.

 

ooOoo

 

“It’s time to get up,” Thranduil said, his voice a low murmur that reverberated through the gloom of the early morning.

Charlotte snuggled closer to him. “Five more minutes,” she pleaded in a sleepy voice.

She could feel him smiling as he nuzzled against the crown of her head before placing a kiss there.

“You tempt me more than is wise, little one.”

Charlotte glanced up at him. Contentment, as well as that familiar dancing light had returned to him, and she could not help but smile back at him. Calenmiriel’s words had left their mark last night, but Thranduil had drawn strength from Charlotte, returning once more to the ellon she had grown to know and love.

His fingertips curled under her chin and he drew her in for another kiss, this one tempered with satedness and simple fulfilment.

It was with regret that he drew away and climbed out of bed, preparing himself for the day. Charlotte watched him from her position in bed, and all too soon he was ready to depart. Her eyes raked appraisingly over his regal form that was clothed in a crimson tunic and matching cloak, the material beholding flashes of black stitching and designs. Black pants paired with dark charcoal grey leather boots completed the outfit.

She watched in fascination as he placed his crown upon his head, settling back into his role of Elvenking with ease. He turned from the mirror and his sapphire eyes locked with hers. Then he smiled at her and her fears melted away.

_There you are, my love. Underneath that frosty exterior is the real you…_

Thranduil came over to the bed and knelt elegantly so that he was now eye level with her. He took her hand in his own and placed a kiss upon the back of her hand. She could feel the curling tendrils of warmth through their bond.

“I used to wonder why we had been brought together. I thought that it was because I was meant to help you. But now I am starting to see that it is the other way around. You have helped me more than you will ever know.”

“We have helped each other, Thranduil.”

He smiled again and placed a kiss on her forehead, causing her eyes to flutter close. Then he pulled away, standing in one fluid motion. “I’ll see you tonight, my love.”

She watched as he exited the room, the door closing silently behind him. Charlotte settled back against the pillows and sighed. _Maerwen would soon be here. Time to get up, Charlotte._

After a quick bath, Charlotte now stood by the window, dressed in a silvery silken robe as she stared aimlessly at the lands spread out before her as she waited for Maerwen.

The sun had burst forth over the horizon some time ago, and now bathed the Woodland Realm in a brilliant golden glow. The winter snow was fast melting with each passing day, and the promise of spring could be felt in the air like a tingling caress.

But she saw none of the cold beauty reflected before her, her thoughts elsewhere.

_Calenmiriel…_

Charlotte’s thoughts were focused solely on the elleth, and there was no denying that she sympathized with what she had gone through. But another part – a darker part – was angry that she had inflicted such a deep cut upon Thranduil, reducing him to a brooding, tumultuous shadow of himself with just a few choice words.

Charlotte did not quite know how to handle the situation, but it was going to have to be resolved very soon.

A knock sounded at the door, soft and delicate sounding.

“Enter, Maerwen,” Charlotte called out, her eyes still trained on the canopy of the large twisted trees before her.

She heard the door quietly swing open and then shut. There was a poignant pause as Maerwen watched her.

“You are up early.” Maerwen came to stand beside her and cast her gaze to Charlotte’s line of sight. “I must say, it is a pleasant surprise.”

A smile came to Charlotte’s face. Then she abruptly turned to face Maerwen. “Tell me, Maerwen, are you seeing someone?”

Maerwen frowned. “Seeing someone?”

“I mean, are you dating…er, courting a special someone?”

Maerwen flushed beet red and glanced down at her feet. It was clear that she was uncomfortable about talking about her personal life, and Charlotte understood.

Turning her gaze back to the window, she continued, “Hypothetically speaking, if you were courting someone and another person, er, elf came along and said or did something to upset them, what would you do?”

Maerwen’s eyes widened and then she peered closely at Charlotte. She could discern that the Lady Charlotte was troubled by something… _maybe something that had transpired last night._

“But you also knew that her actions were somewhat justifiable by the past…” Charlotte paused, struggling to find the right word, “…deeds of your loved one.”

_Ah…_ Comprehension dawned and Maerwen straightened, drawing in a deep breath as she internally wagered the best course in advising the future Queen.

“It would depend…”

Charlotte peered up at the elleth, a flash of open curiosity to be seen in her hazel eyes, but she remained silent as she waited for Maerwen to continue.

“Did…” Maerwen was trying to approach this with as much tact as she could. “…my partner apologize for past transgressions and was sincere about it? If so, and the other…” She met Charlotte’s gaze head on, “…elleth was still holding onto her grudge, then I would seek her out and talk to her.”

Charlotte chewed the inside of her cheek, her brows furrowed in thought. “I don’t know if he has apologized, but I do know that he is sorry. His guilt was practically eating him up inside last night.”

All pretenses were dropped. Both knew they were no longer talking hypothetically.

Maerwen placed a hand upon Charlotte’s shoulder. “I know that their story is a very complicated and difficult one, Lady Charlotte. One where I see no easy resolution unless Calenmiriel can learn forgiveness. And our King can learn to forgive himself.”

Charlotte swallowed. _Not an easy task, either way._

She gave a nod falling into contemplative silence. The she turned to face the elleth. “Well, I guess it’s time to get ready and visit my dungeon master.”

“Dungeon master?”

“Hérion’s new nickname,” Charlotte explained with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I’m sure he has formulated some new techniques to torture me.”

Maerwen suppressed her laughter and shook her head, rather used to the grumblings Charlotte reserved solely for Hérion.

“Though, he is quite easy on the eyes,” Charlotte continued. “Almost makes him being an ass forgivable.”

“Do not let him hear you say such things,” Maerwen advised, though with little heat as she guided her towards the closet.

Charlotte waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, he’s heard me call him far worse things to his face.”

“I can just imagine,” Maerwen muttered dryly as she set about her task of selecting an appropriate dress for Charlotte.

Once Charlotte was dressed in a heather grey dress with slivers of silver embroidered tastefully into the form fitting bodice that boasted a deep scoop neck, Maerwen started on her hair. She kept the style simple and tamed the unruly, frizzy waves into lustrous locks. She decided to forego any accessories or intricate braids.

Charlotte studied her appearance fleetingly and murmured her thanks to the elleth and turned to head to her lessons.

As they walked down the wide hallways, Maerwen studied Charlotte carefully out of the corner of her eye. It was plain that she was mulling over her current dilemma concerning Calenmiriel, but there was a certain resolve settling deep within her. Maerwen just hoped the human woman was wise enough not to seek out a confrontation with Calenmiriel. It would not bode well, and Maerwen suspected that Calemir’s sister would not react appreciatively.

“Galion.”

Charlotte startled from her deep thoughts and glanced sidelong at Maerwen.

“What?”

“Galion,” Maerwen repeated.

“What about Galion?” Charlotte asked with a puzzled frown.

“You enquired as to whether I was courting anyone.” She let the implication hang in the air between them.

Charlotte’s eyes widened spectacularly. “Really?!”

Maerwen nodded solemnly.

Charlotte guffawed then turned her attention ahead. Then she whirled her head around once more to look at the elleth, disbelief lacing her voice. “Seriously? Are we talking about the same Galion?”

“You sound surprised.”

Charlotte shrugged. “I just kinda had him pegged as an eligible bachelor.”

Maerwen made no response and a silence descended as Charlotte contemplated this latest tidbit.

“Well…that’s quite the…revelation.”

They continued their trek in quiet discretion.

“So…” Charlotte said candidly, breaking the lull. “Did he enjoy the new lingerie?”

The furious blush that now graced Maerwen’s features was almost too comical, and Charlotte ribbed Maerwen playfully in the side with her elbow.

“Oh, come off it. I know for a fact that you elves are not the prudish beings you pretend to be. Thranduil is proof enough of that…”

Maerwen groaned, shaking her head from side to side. “I do not wish to hear of it.”

Charlotte chuckled wickedly. “Fair enough. So how long has this been going on?”

“Our relationship is still new, and we have only been together for about seventy-eight years.”

Charlotte’s jaw dropped as she gaped at Maerwen. She opened and closed her mouth, her mind absolutely boggled and unable to form a coherent sentence. She then coughed and struggled to compose herself. “Yes, well…” Another cough. “My, you two have certainly rushed into things.”

Maerwen shot her a look only to find Charlotte flashing her a teasing grin. Then Charlotte started pestering her with questions. It was almost with relief that Maerwen delivered Charlotte to her destination, making a hasty departure, much to Charlotte’s amusement.

 

ooOoo

 

Hérion did not disappoint. He was currently making good on his promise to teach her how to bow her head with poise and grace.

“Again,” he ordered from his station by the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched her intently with those storm grey eyes that were almond shaped and framed by dark thick lashes. Today he was wearing a dark brown tunic that was paired with black pants and brown leather boots that reached just under his knees. His chestnut hair was loose and flowing in a straight curtain over his shoulders, with two thin braids on each side. His expression was stern and unyielding as her stared down his straight and narrow nose at her.

Charlotte huffed, her hands resting on the small of her back to ease the ache that had crept along her spine. It felt like they had been at this for hours.

She mentally cursed him in a few colorful words, and he gave a small smile in return, almost as though he had read her mind. _Sometimes she wondered if he could_.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared back at him.

_H_ _é_ _rion would have been quite appealing with his regal looks, if only it weren’t for the constant look of consternation that was forever gracing his face_. Charlotte’s eyes suddenly flickered to his ring finger, noting it was bare.

_Had there ever been another who had captured his heart?_ she wondered with sudden curiosity.

“Speak what’s on your mind, Lady Charlotte. It is obvious that you wish to ask a question of me.”

Charlotte blinked out of her thoughts and she hastily lifted her gaze to his, noting that he was looking at her expectantly. _How long had she been staring at him?_

“I was just wondering if…” She trailed off, suddenly quite certain that this was not a good idea. If she had to describe her relationship with Hérion, ‘frenemies’ would be the word she would use. To ask such personal questions might not be the best course of action. So she deflected. “I was just wondering what you could tell me of Calenmiriel.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Clearly he did not believe that this was the question she was burning to ask but decided to play along. For now.

“What do you know thus far?”

Charlotte chewed her bottom lip and then haltingly retold the tale Thranduil had spun. Hérion listened silently and remained utterly still with his attention solely focused on her words. When she finished, he strode towards her in an unhurried pace, his hands still clasped behind his back.

“You have firsthand knowledge of what transpired. You know more than the rest of us.” He came to stand in front of her and Charlotte had to crane her neck to look up at him.

“True, but I want to know what she is like now. I know elves are not violent by nature and will not harm an innocent. But in her current state of mind, do you think she will try?”

Hérion raised his sights as he thought about her question. The subtle scent of cedarwood drifted to her senses, and she found that this smell quite suited him.

“You are correct in your assumptions, and I know for a fact that King Thranduil would not keep her within the Realms if he thought she would try to physically harm you.”

Charlotte nodded. “But what about other means?”

His attention snapped back down to her. She saw a flash of approval in his eyes at her line of thought. “I do not know Calenmiriel personally, and I am apprehensive to give a definite answer.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Fat lot of good you are as an advisor.”

He flashed her a wide grin. “You want advice? Then I advise you not to become too involved with matters that do not concern you, unless otherwise provoked. This is a matter between King Thranduil and Calenmiriel.” He paused and decided to cut to the chase. “But I sense that this is not the question you originally wanted to ask.”

_Damn perceptive elf! Nothing gets past him._

“Nope, and I don’t think I want to risk asking it.”

He inclined his head to the side, curiosity brimming in his eyes; the grey almost swirling like the clouds they resembled. He opened his mouth, and then thinking better of it, snapped it shut. He turned on his heel and stalked back to the window that he was favoring today.

“Very well. Let us continue with our History lesson. I think we shall start off with…”

Charlotte inwardly groaned, but she knew it would have been unwise to pry in the life of someone like Hérion. He kept his innermost thoughts and feelings well-guarded, and such an abrasive intrusion would have been a breach of trust.

She would have no choice but to wait for him to open up to her before she could get the answers. Hérion had shown her flashes of playfulness and warmth and understanding, and she suspected that he had not always been the stern and formidable advisor, shrouded in his cloak of haughty aloofness. There was more to his story, that she was certain of. Only time would tell how much he would choose to reveal to her. Time and trust.

 

ooOoo

 

Maerwen came to collect Charlotte and after a light lunch, she set about dressing Charlotte in appropriate training gear. This consisted of a loose tawny brown tunic and black leggings that were paired with tall leather boots that molded perfectly to her feet. Charlotte marveled at how comfortable elvish clothing was. Nothing back on her world could ever feel this comfortable. Then Maerwen set about fitting her with light-weighted leather shoulder and knee pads. Lastly, a corset-like cuirass was attached around her torso and her hair tied back in a ponytail.

“So, what can you tell me about Feren?” Charlotte asked conversationally as they made their way to the training fields.

Maerwen thought about the question, something Charlotte noted that was a common occurrence for elves. They seemed to weigh up their answers carefully and tried to reply with as much tact and diplomacy as possible.

“He is quite likeable, and I find him to have a pleasant and sweet temperament. He is loyal to our King and guards the Realm with diligence. With Tauriel now gone, his station has now been raised to that of the Captain of the Guard.”

“Do you know what has become of Tauriel?” Charlotte asked.

Maerwen shook her head. “I do not know.”

Charlotte felt a great sense of sadness at the thought that Tauriel would probably, or was already, fading from her grief. _Her tale was but a bittersweet one._

They exited through the back of the mountainous kingdom and passed by the stables. Charlotte hesitated, wondering if she should look in on Tallagor quickly. She and Thranduil tried to make it a habit of taking him out for an hour each evening, but last night’s festivities had prevented them from that. The moose had somehow irrevocably become ‘theirs’.

_No, she would have to wait until this evening to spend some time with their beloved pet. Right now she had to train with Feren. Oh joy…_ she thought sarcastically.

A little ways behind the stables they came upon an enormous training field, parts of it sectioned off with split-rail fences constructed from logs. Each section was large and offered ample space for sparring practice. Beyond this segregation, targets were lined up near the trees that bordered the training fields, and Charlotte surmised that archery practice took place there. To the left were structures that could only be described as an obstacle course. A whinny echoed in the distance and Charlotte guessed that beyond the other side of the line of trees that bordered the obstacle course was where the horses were trained and exercised.

Her attention was drawn back to the training field and she saw Feren standing in one of the partitions, waiting. Charlotte paused, suddenly recognizing him as the elf who had come to greet her and Thranduil when they had first arrived here.

_He was the Captain of the Guard?! Surely not! He looks far too sweet and innocent for such a position._

As they neared, Feren turned and bowed his head in greeting. “My Lady. Maerwen.”

Charlotte gave a little nervous bow back, already hearing Hérion’s exasperated sigh in the back of her mind and telling her that she was still doing a poor job of it.

“I’ll collect you in two hours, my Lady,” Maerwen stated softly before she left with long, graceful strides.

Charlotte breathed in deeply and then climbed over the wooden fence, almost toppling over when she lost her footing. She inwardly cringed at her lack of finesse and when she glanced up, she saw that Feren’s eyes had grown large and almost fearful, his face a touch more pale than normal.

_He looks nervous. Scared even. That can’t be right?_

Charlotte came to stand before him, waiting expectantly for Feren to begin their lesson.

He swallowed hard, and then visibly steeled himself. Charlotte frowned. _Yes, he’s definitely nervous. But why?_

“May I enquire as to whether you have received any formal training before?” he asked, his voice soft and to his credit, steady.

“Um, Thranduil tried to teach me, though he focused more on hand-to-hand combat. He did let me try out his swords a few times but said that I was too clumsy and would more than likely chop off a limb. I think his exact words were, ‘Your expertise with the sword rivals your cooking skills’.”

The corners of Feren’s lips twitched, but he quickly schooled his features, straightening as he focused on his task at hand. “And what of weapons? Have you only ever handled a sword?”

“I, uh, I’m good at shooting a gun.” Feren gave her a blank look. Charlotte realized that he would not know what a gun was, and she hastened to offer another alternative. “I’m also pretty good with a crossbow, but I need more practice.”

“A crossbow? Is that similar to our bows?”

“Uh, not quite.” She proceeded to give a brief description. Feren gave a nod, indicating he understood.

“It sounds similar to the contraptions of dwarven creation,” he mused with just a hint of distaste. He paused. “And what of your skills with a regular bow?”

“Abysmal,” she said without hesitation. “Though, in my defense, I only tried it once. The arrow landed about a foot away from me. Thranduil had a good laugh at that.”

Feren did smile at this, making him seem rather boyish. Charlotte could not deny that Feren was attractive, but in a loveable, boy-next-door kind of way. He exuded such a sweet-tempered nature and she still could not wrap her head around the fact that he was a Captain. _Captains were supposed to be authoritarian and stern._ _Like H_ _é_ _rion…_

Feren started circling her and Charlotte stilled, knowing that he was assessing her with both his questions and his eyes _. He would find out soon enough that he was going to have his work cut out for him._

He came full circle and briefly paused in front of her, studying her intently. Then he turned and headed to the fence to collect two items that leaned against the post. When he returned, Charlotte saw that he held two wooden swords in his hands.

She almost scoffed at the idea of using wooden swords but had to concede that it was probably the best (and safest) course of action, especially where she was concerned.

He handed her one and Charlotte took it, adjusting her grip on the handle. She tried a few slashing motions through the air, getting a feel for it. Feren watched her fixedly, mentally taking notes.

“Now, if you ever found yourself under attack, what is the first thing you should do?” he asked, his voice still soft and melodious.

_Seriously, how are you the Captain with your sweet temperament?_

“Scream?” she joked.

Feren pressed his lips together, though whether to hide his amusement or to stop himself from reprimanding her, she could not tell.

“Run and hide? Pray I don’t get killed?” she offered.

A flash of amusement danced in those honey brown eyes and a small smile did grace his features.

_At least he has a sense of humor,_ she thought to herself.

But then he became serious.

_Uh-oh. There’s a glimpse of that steeliness that made you Captain of the Guard. So it begins…_

“No,” he stated simply, his tone still soft, but there was no denying the undercurrent of authoritativeness. “You position yourself into a fighting stance. Focus on the enemy approaching you and try and assess any weakness he or she may possess. Now, can you show me your stance?”

Charlotte shuffled awkwardly into position and looked over at Feren, who gave a nod of approval. He circled her again, making slight adjustments to her grip and stance. Then he faced her and positioned himself in the same manner, his sword gripped firmly in his hand and held ready. Charlotte copied him, her heart rate starting to increase.

“Ready?”

“Nope,” she squeaked.

“I’ll set a slow and steady pace and I will talk you through each move and technique,” he assured. “First, we shall start with you blocking my attacks.”

Charlotte nodded, reassured that he was not going to throw her into the deep end. Soon they parrying back and forth, wood clattering against wood as he brought his sword down and she tried to block each attempt. She found it easy to follow his guidance and was even having fun. Feren was proving to be a patient and wonderful instructor.

But it was apparent that Feren was handling her with kid gloves, almost treating her as though she were a delicate piece of china. She knew that with her being a novice, they had to start out slow. She needed to learn each step and technique little by little and there was no rushing things.

As her confidence started growing Feren started to up the pace, and Charlotte soon felt beads of sweat dotting her forehead.

Feren halted and stepped back, twirling his sword in his hand. “Do you feel confident enough to go a bit faster?”

Charlotte panted, her lungs burning from all this exertion. She held up a hand, indicating for him to give her a moment, and after a few deep breaths, she straightened and nodded. “Yup. Bring it on.”

“Now remember all the steps I have shown you. I will attack in the sequence I have taught you and I want you to follow through.”

Charlotte nodded.

Feren paused, letting her get into position. Then he attacked, much faster than before, and it caught her off guard. But (much to her surprise) she automatically blocked his attack and even managed to evade another strike by jumping back as he had taught her. Feren was careful, though, to keep his attacks precise and restrained, and she trusted that he would not accidently impale her.

But no sooner had she recovered then he was upon her again. Charlotte grunted as his next strike was a little bit more forceful, his sword landing upon hers. She gritted her teeth as she tried to push back against him, but it was like pushing against an impenetrable wall.

Then her hold on her sword slipped and she stumbled forward, gasping when she almost collided with his sword. Feren instantly dropped his sword and caught her fall in the blink of an eye.

There was a tension-filled pause and then Feren hastily righted her. Charlotte glanced up at him, frowning when she saw that he was suddenly ghostly pale and dread filling his features. She could not comprehend this sudden fear that had overcome him.

Then it hit her. _Thranduil must have given Feren a very stern warning_.

“Did Thranduil threaten you?” she asked.

Feren swallowed hard, and she knew in, the back of her mind, that she was putting him in a very compromising position. Being as loyal as he was, Feren would not dare speak against his King.

She sighed and straightened her tunic. “Don’t worry, Feren. I’ll deal with Thranduil. Please stop fretting. You have been ordered to train me and accidents are going to happen. Besides, Thranduil left far worse bruises on me when we were training. In fact. He still leaves bruises on me…”

Feren flushed crimson, hastily dropping his gaze to his boots, and Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“Seriously, Feren. Relax. You are a great teacher and I really want you to continue to train me. But you cannot train me to the fullest if you continue to do so with…with kid gloves,” she stated with exasperation, waving her hands in the air.

“Kid gloves?” Feren looked absolutely adorable when he was puzzled.

“It means that you are being very careful with me, and I’m guessing that’s because of Thranduil.” Charlotte took a deep breath to calm herself. “Now, if he hadn’t…warned you, how would you go about training me?”

Feren looked unsure but decided for honesty. “I would have started in a similar fashion as I am now, especially with your lack of skills and experience. But considering that you are human and do not possess the strength and speed of elven kind, I would have been easy on you regardless, though maybe not to this extent.”

Charlotte nodded. “Okay. Let’s make a deal. You train me as you see fit and leave Thranduil to me,” she said, extending her hand.

Feren shifted, looking uneasy. She could understand his reluctance. He would be going against a direct order from his King.

She dropped her hand. “Okay. I’ll tell you what. I’ll have a little chat with Thranduil, and he can then issue you a new command where my training is concerned.”

Feren stared back at her, his features unreadable. _Was she that confident that she could reason with and sway their King? If the rumors were to be believed, and from what he had thus observed, then the answer would be yes._

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and Charlotte glanced over her shoulder, her breath catching when she noted the unmistakable silhouette of Calenmiriel in the distance, watching them. Watching her.

Calenmiriel stood there like a golden goddess as the afternoon sun shone upon her. She was too far away for Charlotte to discern what her facial expression was. Then she swiftly turned on her heel and walked away. Her shoulders were hunched and her head lowered – there was no mistaking, even from this distance, that she was upset.

Charlotte turned to Feren, noting that he was watching the elleth with a guarded expression. He slowly turned his gaze to Charlotte, seeing the question in her eyes.

He reached down and pulled out a sheathed dagger from his boot. He handed it to her hilt first, and she took it, raising a brow.

“Now you’re making me worried, Feren.”

“My apologies, my Lady, but I would feel much better knowing that you have this on you at all times,” he stated.

Charlotte glanced down and unsheathed the dagger, marveling at the perfectly balanced and finely crafted weapon in her hand. The polished steel glinted brilliantly when the sun’s rays shone on it.

“Thank you. But do you really think Calenmiriel will try to harm me?”

Feren breathed in deeply through his nose. “It is not our way, Lady Charlotte. We are peaceful by nature, but it would be foolish not to be on one’s guard.”

She bit her lower lip and gave a nod.

“We have some time and I wish to teach you how to use it.”

“It’s a knife. How hard can it be to use?” she asked.

“Every weapon takes skill and technique to master.” To his credit, Feren managed not to sound condescending as he explained this to her.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Feren shot her a bemused look and Charlotte winked at him. “Let’s do this.”


	51. Chapter 51

Dinner proved to be a rather more subdued affair than the previous night. For one, Thranduil and Charlotte entered the Great Hall through a side entrance that granted them a more direct access to the dais; the grand table laden with a rich assortment of food and beverage, though not on the grand scale as what the feast had been last night.

The first obvious difference Charlotte noted was that the atmosphere was now more relaxed, verging on the cusp of casualness. All the elves were presently seated, and none bothered to rise and bow at the appearance of their King and his human companion; their focus now on eating heartily and conversing merrily. There was none of the pomp and ceremony from last night and it startled Charlotte, even though she was secretly relieved. Having to make a grand entrance night after night and have them all bow formally to her felt…wrong. She was not their Queen yet, but even if she was, she knew that she would not enjoy the constant show of subjugation.

Witnessing how laid back everything was now cemented in her mind that maybe Thranduil did not particularly enjoy such show of grandeur (unless the occasion called for it) and had probably instated that dinner be a less formal occasion for all. There was no doubt that he demanded a certain amount of respect throughout his kingdom, but dinner was supposed to be relaxed and enjoyable. Charlotte agreed wholeheartedly with this ideology.

Thranduil pulled out her seat for her and after she had been seated, he took his place beside her. Charlotte glanced to her left. Hérion was sipping at his goblet of wine, his eyes focused on the throng before them. Other dignitaries were seated at the table, conversing good-naturedly and tucking into their meal. Charlotte noted that he hadn’t touched the food on his plate and was choosing to nurse his wine instead.

“Good evening, Hérion,” she greeted politely.

“If you say so,” he replied, with just a hint of snark.

“Ooh. Something’s got you riled up. Do tell,” she teased as she stared dishing up what she presumed was chicken that had been smothered in a mushroom and wine sauce. The rest of the course consisted of a healthy variation of vegetables, all cooked to perfection, and Charlotte found herself half grieving the loss of fatty and greasy fast food. _What she wouldn’t give for an artery-clogging hamburger and fries right now._ _Maybe she could have a word with Aranhil tomorrow when she managed to escape her confines of H_ _é_ _rion’s lessons…_

A discreet clearing of the throat drew her attention back to Hérion, who was giving her a pointed look. She returned it with a confused one and he let out a sigh of exasperation.

“Napkin, Lady Charlotte. Napkin.” To his credit, he managed not to roll his eyes.

Charlotte scowled, realizing that she had indeed forgotten the first step in fine dining. Flicking out her napkin with more flourish than was necessary, she smoothed it over her lap and cocked a brow at him mockingly.

“So, as you were saying…” she ventured again.

“I offered up no explanation of the sort,” he retorted, though his eyes shimmered with just a hint of mischief at their little game of wits.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, deliberately. She knew how much this action riled him. “Tell me what’s got your knickers in a knot?”

His glass halted partway to his lips, his delicate brows drawing together as he tried to uncode her odd phrasing. A muffled sound to her right told her that Thranduil had definitely understood her and was having a good chuckled at the expense of his advisor.

“She means in a cruder form, what troubles you, Hérion?” Thranduil supplied, suppressed laughter tinting his voice.

“Yeah, what he said,” she said, disregarding all her lessons on how to talk properly (or pompously, in her opinion). _She enjoyed yanking his chain too much, though she really should tone it down,_ she thought to herself.

Hérion turned his attention once more to the gathering before them and muttered sourly over the rim of his glass, “Once again, it is you who is the source of my bane.”

Charlotte arched a brow. “Oh?”

Hérion turned his head to give her a direct look. Seeing her confusion, he had to conclude that she did not know about the latest task set before him. He tried to catch his King’s eye, but Thranduil was pointedly cutting his meat, though there was a shadow of a smug smirk on his face.

Charlotte, seeing that Hérion was now peering at Thranduil, turned to the ellon in question.

“What have you done now?” she asked with an air of exasperation. She had a feeling that it was not only Feren she was going to have to discuss with him later on. Her ‘rivalry’ with Hérion was between him and her, and she didn’t quite want Thranduil interfering. Twisted as it may seem, she and the elf had come to an understanding and even enjoyed trying to exasperate one another on more occasions than was considered healthy.

Thranduil tried for innocence but failed miserably as a wicked smirk broke through. “I merely requested that Hérion should start teaching you Westron in preparation for our journey to Dale.” Thranduil raised his wine glass to his lips, but paused as he added in an afterthought, “And I may have coerced him into giving you a few riding lessons.”

Charlotte frowned, feeling confused. _If anyone were to teach her how to ride a horse, she had thought it would have been Feren, or at least Thranduil himself._

“That doesn’t sound right. Hérion is merely an advisor.”

“Thank you for that acute observation, as well as that display of confidence in my abilities” Hérion stated blithely.

Charlotte ignored him. “What I mean is, wouldn’t Feren be better suited to teach me instead. He is, after all, the Captain of the Guard.” _Not to mention he has a far better attitude._

“True,” Thranduil stated with a twinkling gleam in those magical blue eyes; eyes that shimmered with an otherworldliness. “But amongst us, Hérion is rather gifted when it comes to horses. You could say that he is the horse whisperer of our kind.”

Charlotte gave an unlady-like snort. “All you elves have an unnatural connection to animals in general. I mean, just look at you and Tallagor. It’s like you two understand each other.”

Thranduil inclined his head to the side gracefully in agreement, that magnanimous smile never leaving his lips. “You are correct, Charlotte, but you have not seen Hérion in action. I think he would be far better suited to train you in such regards.”

Charlotte turned her attention back to Hérion, who was still stubbornly scowling at the crowd before him, though he had no doubt heard everything that had been discussed.

She let out a long-suffering sigh. “That means that I am going to have to start thinking of some better excuses to get away from you more often, aren’t I.”

“Taking a page from your book, I, too, will have to contrive of some plausible pretexts to escape your presence,” he replied smoothly.

“You say the sweetest things, Hérion,” she said with a bright, sunny smile and had to restrain from batting her lashes at him.  “One would think you almost enjoy my company.”

Hérion scowled and locked his storm grey eyes with her own. Finally, he stated, “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

She raised her glass to him. “Consider it payback for utterly useless lessons in fine dining.”

“Careful, Lady Charlotte. You know not what game you play. I have infinite more experience, and just enough vindictiveness, to make the lessons become less bearable on your part.”

Her grin widened. Though his words had been spoken in seriousness, she could clearly discern the gleam of playfulness entering his eyes. _The odds had now been wagered and the game was one. It would be a contest to see who could best each other._

“We’ll see, Professor Snape.”

This time, Thranduil didn’t bother to mask his abrupt laughter.

Hérion frowned. “Professor Snape?”

Thranduil shook his head. “Best you not ask, Hérion. Let’s just say that you and he share a similar trait for surliness.”

Hérion’s frown deepened and Charlotte took pity on him.

“He’s a fictional character. At first glance he comes off as surly and cantankerous, but there is more to him than meets the eye. He was one of my favorite characters in that story.”

“Really?” Thranduil interrupted. “I was rather fond of Fred and George.”

Charlotte flashed Thranduil a grin. “Ha! I knew you enjoyed those books.”

Thranduil shrugged indifferently. “Only because there was not much else to do.”

“Uh-huh,” Charlotte teased, not believing him for a second. Both had momentarily forgotten Hérion.

Thranduil leaned over, and in an attempt to change the subject, he murmured low enough for her to hear, “I think I am going to thoroughly enjoy being a spectator to this particular game between you and Hérion. I may even have a few ideas.”

Charlotte stared at him amusedly. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you set this all up for this exact outcome.”

Thranduil gave her a far too innocent look but remained tightlipped on further talk on the subject.

_Innocent, my arse,_ Charlotte thought to herself as she resumed her meal.

Charlotte cast her gaze to the crowd before her, but she saw no sign of Calenmiriel - much to her relief. The tension she hadn’t realized she was holding on to eased away. Part of her suspected that the elleth was avoiding her just as much as Charlotte wished to avoid her.

Her mind flashed back to the memory of Calenmiriel walking away with such an air of abject desolation that it was almost pitiful to witness. _She almost felt sorry for her…_

Turning her attention once more to Hérion, she noted that even though at first glance it seemed that he was focused on dinner, he was observing all around him discreetly; his eyes watching everything from under the cover of his lashes. Hérion was certainly the type where nothing escaped his observation, and Charlotte would have bet anything that he would have done exceptionally well as a member of the Guard, or Captain even.

_So why had he chosen to become an advisor?_

Hérion was still very much a mystery to her, and there was more to his story than he let on. There were many layers when it came to him.

He caught her staring at him, and he quirked a questioning, and almost teasing brow at her. Then he placed his glass down on the tabletop and uttered something that sounded vaguely like English, though she could only make out every third or fourth word.

“What was that?”

“Westron. Or the Common Speech,” he replied candidly, switching back to Sindarin.

“Really? What did you say?”

Hérion rested his elbow on the table, his cheek cradled in his palm and gave her an infuriatingly smug smile. “I said, if you continue to stare, others might get the wrong idea.”

If this had been said by anyone else, Charlotte would have blushed furiously. But this was Hérion. There was a mutual respect between them that would lay the foundations for a deep friendship, but right now she could only view him as her infuriating instructor. The insinuation was almost diabolically hilarious.

She grimaced and took another sip of her wine, puzzling over the words he had spoken. She turned again to him, curiosity now alighting her hazel eyes. “Westron…it sounded a bit like English, though I could only make out a few words.”

“English?” he asked, straightening, all teasing now fleeing his features to be replaced with curiosity.

“My native tongue. Galadriel somehow managed to wire my brain into talking Sindarin. I wonder why she didn’t do the same for Westron?”

“To make my life more difficult, I suppose,” he remarked dryly.

Charlotte chuckled. “Ah, but you would be utterly bored if you didn’t have me to keep you on your toes, Hérion.”

“I’m sure I would find some other form of entertainment, my Lady,” he said with just the right amount of sarcasm.

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t be as much fun,” she countered.

Hérion didn’t deign to reply, but that twinkle in his eyes had returned full force as he sipped his wine. Charlotte glanced back at Thranduil, but he was now talking to Galion, who was bent at the waist as he listened intently to his King’s instructions.

“So…any sign of her,” she whispered, turning her attention back to the other elf.

Hérion shook his head. Charlotte had guessed correctly that he had been on the look-out for the elleth. She surmised that Hérion, in a way, had her back. It was a touching thought.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte snuggled against Thranduil’s side, her head resting against his chest as they stretched out against the rock by the secluded pond that had become their sanctuary. In the background, Tallagor was noisily rustling about in search of something to feed his constant and never-ending appetite; his expanding middle was proof of this. Hence another reason Thranduil was adamant on taking him out each night after supper. The moose would be quite content to eat and laze about all day if he had his way.

“So how was your training with Feren today?” Thranduil asked, his hand stroking idly along her arm.

Charlotte raised her head and gave him a stern look. “Actually, I’m glad you brought that up.”

Thranduil, sensing that she was far from impressed with him, became somewhat guarded as he studied her. “Oh?”

Charlotte pushed away from him, wincing at the loss of his warmth, but she needed to face him head-on with this.

“Did you threaten Feren?”

“Threaten is a bit of a harsh word,” he said evenly.

“Thranduil,” she said with exasperation.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I merely _warned_ him that no harm was to come to you during your lessons.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. She had not missed the emphasis on the word ‘warned’. “Well, cut it out. How do you expect him to train me if he is not allowed to teach me the way he needs to? How am I supposed to learn anything if he’s being too damn careful? Not to mention deathly afraid that you’re going to behead him if I even stub my toe.”

Thranduil stared back at her, silent and unblinking.

_If they ever had a staring competition, Thranduil would win, hands down._

She sighed and glanced away, plucking absently at the yellowed grass that felt brittle under her fingertips. Come spring, this meadow would be carpeted with lush green grass, springy and soft beneath her bare feet.

“I don’t see why you’re being so overprotective. It’s not like you were really gentle with me when you were training me.”

“ _That_ was different.”

“How so?” she asked, glancing up sharply at him.

Thranduil shifted, pulling his knee up to his chest and interlocking his fingers around his bent leg. He regarded her seriously.

“For one, I was in control and knew both our limitations. I knew I would not take it too far with you.”

“And you don’t trust Feren not to go too far with me?”

“Yes and no. Feren will not purposely harm you. But you have not really seen how…extensive his training methods can be. He may appear as sweet and likeable in your eyes, but he did not become Captain on those merits alone.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip. Of course, Thranduil had a point. Feren had shown but a glimpse of the capability he had in his chosen career, casting away any doubt from her mind that he was just merely a pretty face with a temperament to match.

“So what do you suggest? Because I really do enjoy training with him. He makes it fun an enjoyable and I feel that I am learning a lot from him.” She hastily raised her hand. “Not that you weren’t exceptional. But you must admit, you were rather distracting.”

Thranduil gave her a positively wicked grin. “And you do not think that you weren’t distracting with those impossibly tight clothes that you chose to wear?”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. _Had he really been affected by her workout clothes?_ “At the time, I thought you were too much of a prude to really be affected by...things like that!”

Thranduil leaned forward, giving her a conspiratorial look. “I think we have established that I am far from prudish.”

Charlotte smiled and shook her head. “We have _now_. But at the time I didn’t know that.”

Thranduil chuckled and settled back against the rock. His features slowly morphed into that of solemnity, and she knew he was deliberating her request.

Finally he broke the silence. “You cannot blame me for being protective over you, Charlotte. It is a habit I will not break, especially when it comes to you, but I will yield to your request and allow Feren to train you as he sees fit. But there will be limits and I shall discuss this further with him.”

Charlotte gave him a genuine smile. This had been more than she had bargained for. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, little one. By the end of your training you may be cursing me for allowing this.”

Charlotte settled back against his side, sighing contently when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close against him once more.

“So is Hérion really that gifted with horses?”

“If he weren’t, I wouldn’t have set him up to this, now would I?”

“I thought you did it just to piss him off.”

“Well…that was an added advantage,” he remarked with uncurbed amusement.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You know, I think he’s going to end up hating us by the end of this.”

Thranduil shook with his suppressed laughter and Charlotte had to smile to herself, but after a few moments she decided to break the silence.

“I don’t know, Thranduil. I’ve seen another side to him. A very different side opposed to the one which he outwardly portrays. I have come to trust him even though he annoys me to no end, which I suspect he does purposely for his own amusement.” She glanced up at Thranduil, who was watching her with interest. It still felt surreal to her that he was truly interested in her thoughts and wanted to hear them. Eric had never shown much interest in menial conversation, especially with regards to how her day had been or how she was feeling. Thranduil was the polar opposite and it was rather refreshing having someone who truly cared about her.

“Hérion may not be expressive with his feelings, as such, but his actions have proven that he has come to accept you. Maybe even care for your well-being. His loyalties now lie with you as well. You two have come to an understanding and, if I’m not mistaken, a friendly sort of hostility that can only be forged in true comradeship.”

Charlotte fell into contemplative silence as her thoughts drifted to the ellon who was the topic of their discussion, and she felt her curiosity stirring once again. She glanced up at Thranduil. If anyone knew anything about Hérion, it would be him.

_Dare she ask?_

Gathering up her courage, she decided to voice the question that was eating away at her since this morning. “What is Hérion’s story, Thranduil?”

Thranduil regarded her, his face carefully expressionless. Finally, he turned his gaze away and looked into the far distance of the pitch night sky that was speckled with waves of blinking stars, and replied, “Hérion’s story is not mine to tell, Charlotte.” It had been said gently and without rebuke.

She nodded in acceptance and settled back into the warm comfort of his body. She had known, deep down, that Thranduil would not reveal the other ellon’s past or secrets, and she respected him for not divulging this to her.

“Given time and trust, Hérion may impart to you his tale,” Thranduil continued, his voice a soft murmur.

“Is it bad, though?” _God, she really hoped it wasn’t a tragic tale._

Thranduil did not reply and she peeked up at him through her lashes. He seemed to be internally warring with himself at how best to broach this subject with her without revealing too much.

“It’s…complicated,” he stated cagily. It was all he was willing to say on the subject and she decided to let it drop and change the subject instead.

“So why aren’t you teaching me to ride a horse? I know Hérion is supposed to be some god of the horses, but wouldn’t you rather teach me?”

“I’ll be teaching you to ride Tallagor instead.”

She sat up quickly, shooting Thranduil an apprehensive look. “Really?”

Thranduil stood and extended a long-fingered hand to help her to her feet. “Though, in all fairness, Tallagor is rather docile and all is needed is a word here and there to direct him. He is hardly considered a challenge, in my opinion.”

An indignant snort sounded in the distance behind them.

“I mean that in the best possible way, my friend,” Thranduil said, raising his voice so the moose would hear him clearly. “It means that I trust you wholeheartedly with the safety of my little spider.”

Another snort sounded, though this time it sounded somewhat more appeased.

Thranduil grinned widely and winked at her.

“You really do have a deep connection with him,” she mused, drawing her cloak tighter around her as a cool breeze flittered through the meadow, rustling the sparse leaves that still graced the treetops.

“As do you, but not quite on the same level as I.”

A sudden thought came to her and she decided to voice it. “Feren gave me a dagger today.”

She watched him closely, but he remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate with an eerie stillness that only elves were capable of.

“Calenmiriel was watching us train and after she left, he gave me the dagger and taught me a few techniques.”

“May I see it?” he enquired; his voice oddly neutral by this news.

Charlotte bent at the waist and retrieved the sheathed blade from her boot, handing it to him wordlessly. Thranduil unsheathed the dagger and eyed it appreciatively, turning it this way and that to get a better look at it in the cold moon light.

“A fine blade indeed.” He handed it back to her and once she had it safely placed back in her boot, Charlotte straightened and held his gaze.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Feren gave me a run down of what had transpired today.”

Charlotte nodded, unsurprised. Not much went on within his kingdom that he didn’t know about. She huffed out a breath and said, “Personally, I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“One can never be too sure, Charlotte. It’s better to have an extra layer of protection at your disposal at all times.”

Charlotte shook her head, her waves bouncing with the movement. “No. Well, yes, I get that. But I mean, I don’t really think I’m going to need it with Calenmiriel. I…I don’t know.” She sighed, struggling to find the right words and explain it to him. “As I watched her walk away, I could sense her hurt and pain. She’s…she’s desolate, Thranduil.”

Thranduil remained unmoving, listening intently to her words, his features an unreadable mask.

“Have you tried talking to her? Have you…tried to let her know that you are sorry for what happened to her sister?” she asked cautiously. Maerwen had bought up a valid question and she wanted to know the answer.

Thranduil gave a stiff nod. “I did express my sorrow and regret over what had happened. I tried to apologize, but at the time she would not hear of it.”

Charlotte sighed. She had been hoping it would have been as simple as him apologizing to her to make everything right. But this kind of hurt and grief ran far, far deeper. Deeper than what she had originally anticipated. Enough to have lasted a few hundred years at least. Maybe even more than a thousand years.

“Why did you let Calenmiriel remain here? Surely she would have wanted to leave, especially after losing her sister?”

“She had nowhere else to go, really. Her parents had long since sailed the seas and she had no other family. Except Legolas.”

Something inside her head clicked, almost audibly. _Of course_. _Calenmiriel, though she grieved for her sister, would have stayed because of Legolas, the only remaining piece she had left of a family. Now with Legolas gone, though, was she also blaming Thranduil for that?_

Looking back, Charlotte had to conceded that Thranduil was responsible for the whole fiasco regarding Legolas, but he had shown a great deal of wisdom, especially after having watched the movies, to follow through so that Legolas would eventually travel down the path that would lead him to the Fellowship of the Ring.

Thranduil had changed a lot since his first arrival on her lawn. He was repentant for what had happened in his past, that she was damn sure of, and he held immense guilt for what he had done. It would continue to haunt him for his very long life. But, as Maerwen had pointed out, he needed to learn to forgive himself, especially considering he was no longer that ellon.

Charlotte didn’t think twice about it and stepped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist as she held on to him.

“Legolas will return and hopefully he will understand your actions, Thranduil. I’m sure he will,” she said, trying to sound optimistic.

Thranduil let out a breath he had been holding and relaxed into her embrace, his hand coming up to stroke her hair.

“Legolas inherited his mother’s heart. He is more forgiving, and one would almost say he is all heart.”

Charlotte pulled back slightly to peer up at him. “I think you truly underestimate how much of you there is in him, then.”

Thranduil peered down at her with keen eyes, and Charlotte let it show plainly just how she viewed him: an ellon who was capable of profound and deep love. An ellon who would hold nothing back to protect the ones he loved and cherished. An ellon whose feelings ran deeper than waters of the Anduin. An ellon who meant everything to her.

Charlotte knew the moment he registered this truth and she rose on her tippy toes, brushing her lips against his. Thranduil relented and pressed into the kiss, drawing his arms tighter around her as he sought to deepen it. Their lips parted, their heated breaths intermingling with one another as their tongues moved sensually against each other. His fingers dug into the flesh of her back as he made a low moan, eager to press her as closely to him as he could.

Suddenly a hard nudge interrupted them, and they broke apart, both now staring at a rather irate looking moose.

Charlotte glanced at Thranduil. “What did we do now?”

“How should I know. He enjoys ruining our romantic moments for the sheer joy of it.”

Tallagor gave an irritated snort.

Thranduil raised his eyes as various thoughts came to mind. “Ah. I think he wants to return to the stables for his nightly brush down and grooming.”

Charlotte’s brows raised almost to his hairline before she looked pointedly at the moose. “My, you are spoilt.”

Tallagor was having none of her mocking and nudged at her side again, more insistently; almost as though he were saying ‘ _Get a move on!’_

Thranduil rolled his eyes. As Tallagor knelt, he extended his hand to help Charlotte onto the moose’s back.

“I guess you’ll get your first riding lesson with him tonight, then.”

“I think it’s going to be a quick one,” she declared as Thranduil settled snugly behind her. “I think he’s in a hurry to get his pedicure.”

As Tallagor rose to his spindly legs, Charlotte clutched at the bristly fur on his neck for purchase. Thranduil snaked his arm around her middle, drawing her tight against him. Without another warning, the moose galloped off into the direction of the Elven Halls, and Charlotte understood with clarity why Thranduil had given the moose his apt name. He was proving as swift foot as ever.

 

ooOoo

 

Charlotte was seated in front of the burning fire that blazed in the hearth, the flames casting a delicious heat along her body as she stared with an almost hypnotic gaze into the fire.

She startled when Thranduil suddenly appeared by her side – she had been too absorbed in her thoughts to notice much around her – and he settled into the armchair next to hers. His hair was still damp from their bath earlier and he was wearing a silk robe of shimmery silver that was a match of the one she was currently swathed in.

Thranduil hesitated briefly, but then he produced two large parchments, handing them over to her wordlessly. Charlotte frowned in puzzlement, but puzzlement quickly gave way to stunned awe when she glanced down at the papers in her hand. She was now staring at an exact replica of the painting that had hung in the living room of her home back in the other world, albeit this one was black and white. But it had been drawn with startling attention to detail that she had to wonder how he had memorized every facet.

The picture in question was the one where she was seated on a stool and her parents were standing behind her, each with a hand placed lovingly on her shoulders. They were beaming with a proud love that only parents can have for their child, and Thranduil had captured the sparkle in their eyes with eerie perfection.

Charlotte traced her fingers lightly over the graphite etching, tears springing to her eyes. Her throat constricted tightly with the flood of emotion that threatened to drown her.

She slowly lifted her gaze up to Thranduil, who was watching her intently.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes drawn once more to the life-like drawing. There were no colors or hues, but it was still beautiful with the true intention behind this thoughtful gift. The mere fact that he had wanted her to have something to remember them by touched her deeply. “It’s perfect,” she said, her smile tinged with sadness.

Even though this was truly a treasured gift, she still felt that familiar twinge that often accompanied the memory of her parents and their untimely passing.

Thranduil returned her smile, reaching out to take her hand in his own. He placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist and then looked back up at her. “I know it is not much, but I wanted you to have something to remember them by.”

“It’s perfect, Thranduil,” she assured, the tears threatening to fall. “This really means the world to me.”

She glanced down and drew in a shuddering breath, trying to reign in her emotions. She pulled out the other parchment from under the first and blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter.

Thranduil had drawn Carl right down to a tee: from the beer bottle clutched in his beefy hand to the garish Hawaiian shirt that he was seldom seen without. Carl was currently passed out in this drawing, his mouth hanging open and she could almost hear the rumbling snores that often accompanied him in sleep. His glasses sat slightly askew on his nose, threatening to fall off at any moment.

“One of my fonder memories of the man,” Thranduil mused.

Charlotte grinned and carefully placed the drawings on the table between then and then scooted onto Thranduil’s lap, lacing her arms around his neck. She kissed him soundly and deeply, conveying her gratitude for this small token of a memory that she was terrified she would not remember a hundred years from now.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely as she pulled back enough to look down at him.

As she drew in for another heartfelt kiss, she knew in her heart that the elf in her arms would always endeavor to make her happy, even with the simplest things. To others it may have seemed trivial, but to her it meant everything.


End file.
